In Spite of Appearances (In Spite of Obstinate Men sequel)
by Quatermass
Summary: Last year, a chance encounter brought together Harry Potter and Fleur Delacour, while her father exonerated Sirius Black. Now, events at Hogwarts will test friendships old and new, as Voldemort conspires to make Harry the Fourth Champion of the Tri-Wizard Tournament. It's a race against time as Harry's allies work to hunt down Voldemort's darkest secrets...but will it be enough?
1. Foreword

**FOREWORD**

Welcome to the sequel of _In Spite of Obstinate Men_. As with that work, the title is derived from a quote from a Hercule Poirot story. This time, it's from debatably the most famous of the stories: _Murder on the Orient Express_ , with the quote being " _The impossible could not have happened, therefore the impossible must be possible in spite of appearances._ "

Anyway, I was surprised at how popular _In Spite of Obstinate Men_ became. What began as an experiment in Fleur/Harry shipping with a mystery storyline appended became immensely popular. As I begin writing this story, it is currently over the 160K views mark, and has 900 favourites. My next most popular work to date, _Harry Potter and the Cetra Heritage_ , has less than half those views. Although I considered doing the whole fic covering the events of _The Goblet of Fire_ as well as the events of _The Prisoner of Azkaban_ , I decided to make that a separate fic, partly because I want more completed fics to my name.

One complaint about the original story was that there wasn't quite enough Harry/Fleur, and more of an emphasis on Hercule Delacour. That was the way the story evolved, but I hope it will be a better balance in this story. But while we will be starting to get to the romance in this instalment of the story, there'll be no sex scenes. One, Harry is somewhat young (he's fourteen during the events of The Goblet of Fire). Two, I'm probably crap at writing them.

As with the penultimate chapter of the previous story, I'm dedicating this story to the victims of the recent terrorist attacks in France. _Je suis Paris. Vive le différence!_

Anyway, some disclaimers before we get to the story. Firstly, there will be spoilers for the Harry Potter series. You have been warned.

Secondly, there _will_ be annotations. If you feel the urge to complain, then resist it, or better yet, strangle it.

Finally, the following is a fan-written work. Harry Potter is the property of JK Rowling and other owners. Please support the official release. Otherwise, they'll throw you into the First Task…naked. Imagine having to fight a dragon with no wand and no clothes. Not a pretty thought, eh?


	2. Chapter 1: A Much-Awaited Reunion

**CHAPTER 1:**

 **A MUCH-AWAITED REUNION**

About a year ago, Fleur Delacour was, much to her annoyance, riding on the Knight Bus, a British mode of magical transport of considerable discomfort. The best thing that she could say about the experience was that she got to meet a new friend, in the form of the Boy Who Lived, Harry Potter. Now, she was in a situation where discomfort had to be endured once more.

It wasn't the fact that they were sleeping in a tent on a field. Magical tents were bigger on the inside than they were on the outside (her father made a remark in passing about a British Muggle television series about a time-travelling alien called _Doctor Who_ , and had given her a moderately interesting book based on the series called _Docteur Who: Les Daleks(_ _1)_ ), and were stocked with every amenity that would be needed. It was comfortable and decent, and she was here with her family, meaning her father Hercule, her mother Apolline, and her little sister Gabrielle.

It wasn't the fact that she had only a moderate interest in Quidditch, despite being at the Quidditch World Cup. She had enough of an interest to be able to enjoy watching the final match, which was to be between Ireland and Bulgaria. And in any case, their tickets had been paid for by a grateful Sirius Black, who had been exonerated by her father last year, and it would mean spending a little more time with Harry Potter, a boy with whom she felt a bond of friendship (and more? Perhaps) forming. He had nearly died in a ritual designed to remove some foul piece of magic from him, and she had felt herself slowly dying while she waited.

But there were plenty of things to complain about. Leaving aside the choice of venue, where the stadium and the tents were put up in an open field that soon got churned to a muddy slurry by a large number of feet, there were the things here and there that spoke of this event being organised almost entirely solo by Ludo Bagman. Fleur's friend Marie had once used an apt if crude English idiom to describe him: that he couldn't organise a piss-up in a brewery. And as crude as that was, Fleur could see firsthand that it was an understatement.

The Muggle owners of the field had to be frequently Obliviated, and Fleur wouldn't be surprised if the poor people ended up drooling vegetables for weeks afterwards. Most of the wizards and witches present, despite admonishments to look more like Muggles for camouflage, did so with variable success at best (she saw one of the officials dressed in a kilt and a poncho, for Merlin's sake!). Fleur felt that she blended in better than the vast majority of those present: while she seldom wore Muggle clothes, she knew how to wear them. And while the clothes she was wearing (a T-shirt with the words _Enfant Terrible_ (2) on it, and jeans) were rather vulgar and far from _haute couture_ , she secretly enjoyed wearing them on occasion. It was fun, she thought at times, to wear the T-shirt. She had once done so for a dare from Marie, and actually found it mildly liberating. Plus, how many of the British wizards would get it? Her mother thought it unbecoming, but her father thought it an enjoyable joke, and Fleur resolved to continue wearing it when the mood took her. As it was, there was a delegation from Beauxbatons somewhere, and she would have to avoid being there, if only to avoid annoying Madame Maxime.

Another objection she had were the Bulgarian cheerleaders. The Veela cheerleaders were amongst the most shameless of her people, often resorting to their allure to get their own way, and transforming and hurling fireballs when they didn't. Not that the leprechauns who were the Irish cheerleaders were that much better: they were known for their crude and puerile insults.

And then, there were the people gawking at her. It was hard for part-Veelas to control their allures, and she never got the ability to dial it completely down. The fact that part-Veelas tended to be far more attractive than normal people didn't help. She loved being beautiful, but she didn't love attracting the attention of idiots, as well as bigots who thought of Veela and their brood as subhuman temptresses. More than a few men gawked at her as she walked by, and she heard at least one wolf-whistle. It certainly wasn't the T-shirt that they were gawking at, but what it covered.

It was as she was passing the encampment of the Bulgarians that it happened. One of the Bulgarian Quidditch Team stepped out in front of her, a burly man who was probably a Beater. "Hey, beautiful lady," he purred in English (or tried to: his thick accent ruined the effect). "You want to spend time with me?"

"No," Fleur said. She knew that this one, however, was going to be persistent.

"Why not? Your people are like that, are they not?"

"Volkov," growled a voice from nearby. That same voice then spoke in sullen Bulgarian, and Fleur turned to find that the one who had interrupted this awkward (to say the least) conversation was none other than Viktor Krum. Volkov flung his hands into the air, and snapped off a few angry words in Bulgarian, before retreating to his tent to sulk.

Krum then turned to Fleur. Intense and sullen of features, looking vaguely vulture-like. "My apologies," he said in his own thick accent. "Volkov tends to have…relations with our cheerleaders. He has a…thing, I believe, for Veela."

" _De rien_ ," Fleur said, shaking her head. "It is a pleasure to meet you, Monsieur Krum."

"Viktor, please. Unfortunately, you are not the first part-Veela who had tried to refuse him. May I ask your name?"

"Fleur Delacour."

"Delacour…I know that name from somewhere…" Krum then snapped his fingers in realisation. "Your father…he is the one who cleared the name of Sirius Black last year, is he not?"

"Indeed. It is only his latest achievement." She frowned. "You go to Durmstrang, do you not?"

Krum nodded. "And you, presumably, go to Beauxbatons."

"You have heard the rumours?"

Krum chuckled. "More than rumours. I intend to enter the Tournament, if that is what you refer to."

"As do I, Viktor."

"I wonder who would become Champion of Hogwarts, then?"

"Nobody I know, though there is a boy I know who would be good, if he was old enough to," Fleur admitted.

"Who?"

"Harry Potter."

"The Boy Who Lived? Do you think he is that good?"

"I do not know, but he is certainly someone you should keep an eye on, should you ever play Quidditch at Hogwarts. He is Seeker for their Gryffindor House, and apparently an excellent one at that."

"You know him?"

"We have met a few times," she said, smiling. "You would not know who he is by his demeanour, though."

"Hmm. Well, I look forward to Hogwarts, then. Goodbye, Fleur Delacour." And with that, he moved away.

Fleur decided to head back to her family's tent. As interesting as it was to meet Viktor Krum, one of the most famous Seekers in the world, the encounter with that Beater (Ivan Volkov, if the surname was any indication) had given her some incentive to return. And Harry would be arriving before long.

Yes, Harry. Harry Potter. The Boy Who Lived. A boy ill at ease with the fame that had sprung up when he supposedly, at the age of one, defeated Voldemort. In truth, Fleur accepted what her father thought: that one or both of Harry's parents had found some obscure ritual that saved their child, possibly at the cost of their lives. The real Harry was a somewhat shy, but compassionate and at times perceptive boy only a few years her junior. A chance meeting on the Knight Bus had led to correspondence, and in time, to friendship. And it seemed that it might be leading to something more. Fleur felt it.

She got to the tent to find her father, a portly bearded man smiling. " _How was your walk, Fleur?_ " he asked in French.

" _Fine enough_ ," she said. " _But some Bulgarian Beater tried to accost me. Would you believe it was Viktor Krum who stopped him?_ "

" _Ah, Viktor Krum, one of the most famous Seekers in the world._ " Hercule Delacour chuckled jovially. " _Not one you would expect to be a knight in shining armour as far as looks are concerned, but he's a lad of hidden depths, that one. By the way, Marie and Audrey came around not long ago, looking for you. They're waiting inside._ "

" _Thanks, Father. Have Harry and his friends arrived?_ "

" _Not yet. Sirius opted to take the Weasleys with him from their home at Ottery St Catchpole, and use a Portkey. I asked those involved…not that imbecile Bagman, but someone who's not incompetent, when they are expected. It should be within a few minutes. Actually, I believe that he was another Weasley. An officious sort, but he's doing well under Madam Baum._ "

In the wake of Barty Crouch Senior's death, a new Head for the Department of International Magical Cooperation had to be found in a hurry, her father had explained on the way here. Amber Baum(3) was one of Crouch's seasoned underlings, and despite being a Muggleborn (and thus a relative novelty in the Ministry of Magic in any senior position), managed to get promoted to being the head of the department. It was probably because she had an excellent command of languages both human and magical creature-related (like Mermish or Gobbledegook), like her former boss, and she had a gift for diplomacy. Plus, there'd be few other candidates willing to take up what was seen as a dead-end post by many in the Ministry.

Fleur nodded, before she went into the tent. The red-headed and rambunctious Marie was waiting there, grinning cheekily upon seeing her T-shirt. " _Hey-hey, you're wearing it!_ "

Audrey, meanwhile, was astonished. " _I still can't believe Marie conned you into wearing that!_ "

" _Who said it was a con? It was a dare. Anyway, on occasion, I will wear it. Just not around Madame Maxime_ ," Fleur said. " _So, are you two ready to meet Harry Potter and his friends?_ "

Marie yelped, " _Hell yeah!_ " Audrey said nothing, but Fleur saw the faint smile and the slight fidgeting the glasses-wearing girl was doing. Fleur knew that Audrey was looking forward to meeting Ronald Weasley, her pen-pal, in person. Over the last little while, they had been playing postal chess, and Audrey had even started Ron on the Japanese chess-like game Shogi.

Still, they had that much to look forward to. And Fleur would get to talk to her friend again. Perhaps even friends. She certainly liked Harry's friend, Hermione, especially as the girl's French was pretty good, and while Ron hadn't reacted well to Fleur's allure the first (and to date, only) time they had met in person, she also knew he was good for Audrey.

It would be good to see them again.

* * *

It had been a tense, but relatively peaceful summer, Harry Potter reflected. Sirius had words with Vernon Dursley briefly at the station. Then, the next day, he came around to 4 Privet Drive. His hair and beard, while eccentric, were immaculately groomed, and he was dressed in a suit that, while not exactly business-like, nonetheless satisfied (barely) the Dursley criteria for 'normality'. He certainly looked more like a Muggle than a wizard, which was probably the only reason Petunia deigned to have the man in the house.

Sirius had laid things out bluntly: he didn't like the fact that Harry had to stay here, in a cold environment that reminded him too much of his own home. But he also knew of the blood wards. So he told Petunia that he would be living nearby during the summer, and once the blood wards had gone through their recharging period, he would be taking Harry from the Dursleys for the rest of the summer. He also told Petunia in no uncertain terms what he thought of her, and what Lily would have thought, had she been alive.

" _Once Voldemort has been dealt with_ ," he had said, " _I intend to take Harry from this household. And while I don't expect him to be treated like a prince, I will certainly not be happy if you continue to treat my godson like a House Elf. It's taking everything I can not to hex you so hard, you'll be oozing pus everywhere for the rest of your life._ "

Sirius' threat had hit home, and while Harry still pretty much did a lot of the chores, and endured many bitter remarks from his relatives, a tentative truce of sorts had come about. It wasn't soon enough, though, that Sirius came to fetch him, and while he had been staying at the house of Arabella Figg (who turned out to be a Squib) during that time, Sirius brought Harry back to his ancestral home of 12 Grimmauld Place. Since his pardon, Sirius had worked overtime to clean the place up, and while it still had a rather verbose portrait of his mother and a grouchy, ancient House Elf called Kreacher, it was certainly getting better than it used to be, according to Sirius.

Kreacher's relationship with Sirius, the White Sheep of the Black family, significantly improved once Harry had divulged the location of the Horcrux there, in the form of a locket. Kreacher, who was intensely loyal to Sirius' brother Regulus, had tearfully confessed the truth, and Sirius promised to help destroy the Horcrux. Kreacher, upon learning that his old master's death would be avenged, warmed a little to Sirius, and while the relationship between the two was still fractious, it was better than it had been for years, even when Sirius was still part of the Black family.

During this time, Harry got a crash course in Occlumency, being told to study the theory intensely and practise the exercises by Sirius. It was difficult, true, but if it meant actually being allowed in on some of the secrets that had been kept from him, then he would do so, especially as Death had told him where the Horcruxes were.

But it wasn't all study and homework (though he had to do some of it for Hogwarts, including the hated Potions homework). Sirius had taken him out on excursions to places Harry hadn't been to (the Dursleys invariably refused to sign any consent forms for school excursions before Hogwarts, and Vernon had used his signing of the Hogsmeade form to try and make Harry behave while Marge was visiting last year), like the Ministry of Magic, the Tower of London, Diagon Alley, the National Museum, and Westminster Abbey. In addition, his godfather regaled him with tales of the Marauders, as well as anecdotes about his parents. And there was a mirror call with Fleur.

A week later, Hermione and her parents arrived, along with Lupin. The two parents were curious to be inside a wizarding home, though they seemed grateful that Sirius and Lupin were relatively normal, and didn't look at them with astonishment, bemusement, or contempt. They also learned quickly not to rouse Walburga Black's portrait, who screamed at her son for allowing 'filthy Muggles and Mudbloods' into her home.

Then, the day came to head to the Burrow. They stayed there overnight (Sirius had been amused to discover Fred and George Weasley's ambitions to open a joke shop, and gave them some pointers on products that might do well, as well as a promise to fund their store, much to Molly's horror), breakfasted, and discussed what was going to happen. Harry met Bill and Charlie for the first time, as well as learning that the officious Percy had a job for the Department of International Magical Cooperation. He was helping Madam Baum organise the Quidditch World Cup Finals, so he wasn't present.

Save for Bill and Charlie (Percy already being present at the grounds), the lot of them were going to take a Portkey, along with Amos Diggory, and his son, Cedric, whom Harry had faced at Quidditch. It was difficult, considering that several people were holding on to one Portkey. The journey itself wasn't pleasant. Percy, however, happened to be waiting for them, and helped them get to their assigned space. Unlike Arthur Weasley (who tried) or the other wizards checking off arrivals (who hadn't), Percy at least tried to look the part of a Muggle, albeit making him look like an officious bureaucrat. He helped them find their patch, and said he would come back later, once he got a report back to his boss.

The tent next to their own few tents looked unremarkable (unlike a few around nearby), but Harry knew who was in it. And not long after they set up their tent, a teenaged girl with silvery blonde hair, and deep blue eyes, and the very picture of beauty. Amongst all the eccentrically-dressed wizards, she seemed conspicuous by her relative normality: she was dressed in jeans and a T-shirt, with said T-shirt having the words 'Enfant Terrible' on it.

She smiled upon seeing Harry. " _Bonjour, mon ami!_ " Fleur Delacour greeted Harry.

" _Bonjour_ , Fleur," Harry said with a smile on his own face…

 **CHAPTER 1 ANNOTATIONS:**

 **Well, here we are with the first chapter of** ** _In Spite of Appearances_** **. Mostly scene-setting, though.**

 **1\. The French translated version of the very first** ** _Doctor Who_** **story to ever be novelised (and the second TV story). Originally called** ** _Doctor Who in an Exciting Adventure with the Daleks_** **, David Whitaker's novelisation of Terry Nation's landmark story is nowadays simply known as** ** _Doctor Who and the Daleks_** **. The French translation was published in 1987, seven years before the events of this story.**

 **2\. I took something of a risk here, having Fleur wear a shirt like this. I originally went with a T-shirt with the painting** ** _L.H.O.O.Q_** **on it, before deciding, upon finishing the chapter, that it was a step too far for Fleur.** ** _L.H.O.O.Q_** **is a famous parody of the Mona Lisa with a moustache drawn over the face. The title of L.H.O.O.Q, if pronounced out loud, sounds similar to a French phrase that (roughly) translates to 'she's randy', as far as I understand it. I decided to have a less risqué shirt instead.**

 **3\. Given how Crouch died during the events of** ** _In Spite of Obstinate Men_** **, I needed a replacement character quick-smart, one who would follow many of the roles Crouch plays in** ** _The Goblet of Fire_** **, but who was distinct enough. Given Crouch is meant to be a diplomat of sorts, I derived Baum's first name from 'ambassador', and chose a name not far from it, 'Amber'. 'Baum' was chosen because it's not too divorced from the term 'balm', as all good diplomats have to be soothing when need be to keep things cordial. The Muggleborn thing was something made up, as there's a perception that there are very few of those in senior positions in the Ministry, and while that position is seen as a dead-end posting for many (Crouch got punted there from the DMLE, remember?), being the head of the department would be an achievement enough for Amber, who at least works hard to get what she needs done done. Percy's feelings on her will be elaborated later on, but while he won't be as effusive and sycophantic as he was towards Crouch in canon, he does respect her as a boss.**


	3. Chapter 2: Mon Ami

**CHAPTER 2:**

 **MON AMI**

It proved to be an interesting meeting. Hermione's parents were bemused to discover that the French family included three part-humans (and the non-human part were analogous to the Sirens of Greek myth), and a detective called Hercule whose ancestor was the inspiration for his fictional namesake, THE Hercule Poirot. That being said, the Grangers knew enough French to hold a conversation with the family, and given that a family made up of a number of part-Veelas were viewed in much the same way as Muggleborns and their family were, the two families had more than a little common ground.

Meanwhile, Bill Weasley (who, along with Charlie, decided to Apparate here early) had nudged Harry, and said, " _Snagged yourself a part-Veela girlfriend, eh? Lucky sod._ "

" _She's not my girlfriend_ ," Harry had protested, though a small portion of his mind said _Yet_ , and another, smaller portion kept on screaming eagerly _Yes, yes yes!_

Ron hadn't felt left out, thankfully, as he got to talk to Audrey in person for the first time. Audrey spoke English rather haltingly (her written English was better than her spoken English), but she and Ron got along famously, discussing various chess moves, and Audrey finally introducing him to Go. Marie, meanwhile, chattered away in broken but enthusiastic English to Fred and George.

After a while, Harry got to talk to Fleur alone, or at least semi-alone, just slightly apart from everyone else. Hermione's parents had gone off with Remus, Bill and Charlie to get the water, and Hermione was chatting away with Hercule in French, presumably about one of his cases. "So, Harry, your summer was good?" Fleur asked in her accented English.

Harry shrugged. "At least once I got away from the Dursleys," he said. "And you?"

"Very excellent, though while I am grateful to your godfather for his generosity…I am uncomfortable being here. I mean, have you seen how most of the wizards dress?"

Harry nodded. "The Weasleys could pass as Muggles, and you and your family certainly do. But, well…I feel sorry for that poor guy who got Obliviated right in front of me. Ten times a day, the Obliviator said. Is that healthy?"

"No," Fleur said.

"I once had a teacher that handed out Memory Charms like candy," Harry remarked. "Gilderoy Lockhart," he added, upon seeing her look.

"Oh, that _vantard_ ," Fleur remarked disparagingly. "He was good-looking and pleasant, I will give you that, but _Papa_ showed me why he was possibly a liar. The books are well-written, though…for fiction."

Harry laughed at that. "He probably got someone else to write them for him."

Fleur laughed as well, her amusement having a musical sound. "I heard something about what had happened, about how you and Ronald exposed him. And you showed me that scar from when you faced that Basilisk. A ridiculously dangerous thing to do. But back to our original topic. I am uncomfortable here not just because I feel like one of the only people who has made an effort to dress as a Muggle…"

"And you do a very good job at it, Fleur," Harry said to her.

" _Merci_. But it is not just that. Many of those here are not used to Veela and part-Veela. We are more common in Europe, but not in the British Isles. We are novelties. I believe some Veela and part-Veela hire themselves out as…" She asked her father a question in French. Hermione, who understood it, blushed, and seemed to question Fleur. It was Hermione who supplied the answer: exotic dancers. "Ah, yes. Exotic dancers is the accepted British euphemism. Though sometimes they degrade themselves further and sell their…services, if you understand what I mean. Hermione, I apologise for embarrassing you."

"That's okay, Fleur," Hermione replied, still blushing, before returning to her conversation with Hercule.

Harry winced. "You sort of told me that Veela were considered sex objects before, you and your mother. You're worried someone may end up…well…not taking no for an answer."

"Harry, _Papa_ and _Maman_ have taught me various ways to deal with such a person. Leaving aside using hexes and jinxes to deter them, I know some martial arts to be able to defend myself should I lose my wand. Most wizards sneer at hand-to-hand combat, but should any try to touch me, they will remember what happens next for a long time. And I can always use a fireball. The advantage of being a part-Veela, as long as you have the power, is to be able to use fireballs with impunity. Fire is an excellent deterrent, no?" She sighed, looking at Ron and Audrey chatting away. "I would rather it not happen in the first place, obviously. In addition, this place is so…chaotic. I like order and…elegance."

Harry looked around at the bustling wizards. "I see what you mean."

Lunchtime came, and Dan Granger, Hermione's father, offered to light the fire for Arthur Weasley, after Arthur's rather comical, if well-meant, attempts to use matches. What followed was a brief but interesting explanation by Dan Granger about matches and what he knew of how they worked. He proved to know quite a bit: he was a maxillofacial surgeon (Hermione said dentist because most people didn't understand what that was), had studied the history of jaw injuries and diseases, and Arthur's eyes widened comically when he learned of phossy jaw from Dan(1). Arthur of course was relieved to learn that matches were made with red phosphorous instead of white phosphorous, because he looked about ready to throw the matches away.

As they waited for the fire to heat up, Arthur pointed out various Ministry officials. Harry found the concept of a Department of Mysteries interesting, and resolved to ask Sirius and Dumbledore on the matter later. He was thinking about where his future would lie lately, and was still undecided.

Eventually, Percy came back from whatever errand he had been running. "What a mess!" Percy lamented. "I swear, most of the things Madam Baum and the rest of us are doing lately is cleaning up after Bagman!" The officious former Head Boy and Prefect of Gryffindor was running a hand through his hair. "And then there's that whole mess with Bertha Jorkins…"

Harry nodded. Percy had complained about her before at the Burrow. Sirius had remarked that the Bertha Percy knew was different to the one he had known: she had had an excellent memory for gossip. So for her to be scatter-brained and forgetful was a marked change to him.

Fleur had politely refused the sausages Arthur cooked over the fire, instead opting to eat some sandwiches her mother had made. Partway through the meal, Ludo Bagman showed up.

Neither Harry nor Fleur thought that much of him before, as his lack of organisation (or indeed common sense) had become known to them both by now. Their impressions weren't improved by a man who was wearing Quidditch robes, bold as brass, with yellow and black stripes and the picture of a wasp on his chest. He had been with the Wimbourne Wasps and the English National Quidditch Team, from what Harry had heard so far. He was once a fit man, but had gone to seed, looking like an overgrown, pudgy schoolboy with a lot of enthusiasm, and a broken nose.

Arthur introduced them, with Bagman doing the usual bit of surprise when he learned that Harry Potter was amongst them. The twins seemed about to make a wager with him, until Sirius nudged them, and hissed something under his breath at them. Bagman did seem interested in their fake wands, though, and bought a couple for five Galleons apiece. As Arthur began making some tea, Bagman said he was looking for Baum, as the Bulgarians were making some sort of demand he couldn't understand. They had just moved onto the subject of Bertha Jorkins when Amber Baum arrived.

For a moment, Harry thought that the woman in front of him was his aunt. She had the same thin, horsey face and giraffe-like neck. There was even that same faint air of disapproval about her. She was dressed in a somewhat severe suit, and looked very like a Muggle businesswoman.

"Bagman, I've been looking for you everywhere," she said, her voice having an edge of annoyance and impatience. "The Bulgarians have been insisting on a dozen more seats for the Top Box."

"Is that what they were after?" Bagman asked. "I thought the chap was asking to borrow a pair of tweezers. A bit of a strong accent, you know."

The woman sighed. "Tea, Madam Baum?" Percy offered.

Baum turned to Percy, did a brief double-take in surprise, and then said, "Oh, Weasley. Yes, thank you very much." Her demeanour became far less irritated and annoyed, and the resemblance to Petunia Dursley diminished significantly. Indeed, Harry could sense a certain good nature to her in her tired smile of gratitude. "I think I need some tea at the very least. I think I will need to find some very strong coffee before the end of this." Her eyes fell onto Arthur. "Oh, Arthur. I thought I should warn you, Ali Bashir is making a fuss again. He wants you to lift the embargo on magic carpets. I know what you're going to say, about them being proscribed items and all, but he's desperate to export here, corner the market. He says the British laws are too Draconian."

Baum was introduced to the others present. Harry was pleased to note that she didn't gape in awe when she learned who he was. "I knew your mother in school, actually," she said with a rueful smile. "A pity she wasn't in Ravenclaw with talent like hers." She seemed more excited to meet Hercule Delacour, despite the fact that the man was responsible for giving her old boss a stroke.

"Keeping busy, Baum?" Bagman asked.

" _Kept_ busy is more like it. Organising Portkey travel across five continents is a veritable nightmare of organisation, never mind the paperwork. And once everyone is here…the poor Obliviators are being run ragged. I don't know who to feel sorry for most, the Obliviators or the Muggles they're mind-wiping."

"I expect you'll both be glad when this is over, huh?" Arthur asked.

Bagman then began to make some ridiculously big hints towards some coming event they were organising. Harry and Fleur knew what he was talking about, and they couldn't blame Baum for hurriedly silencing him. "I'm sorry," she said to them as she hurriedly finished her tea, "but we can't divulge details. Even though it seems to be one of the worst-kept secrets in the world," she added, glaring at Bagman. She then looked at Harry and Fleur, as well as the other children present. "Of course, you will learn soon enough. Always assuming you don't know already…" she said, looking at them. Seeing their looks, she sighed. "Never mind. Bagman, we have some Bulgarians to placate. Weasley, if you're not busy, please come with me. Merlin knows I need someone remotely _sane_ with me…"

Her tea was only half-drunk as she handed it back to Percy, who put it down, and stood, following Bagman and Baum. "She looks like she's under a lot of pressure," Emma Granger remarked.

"It may be seen as a dead-end posting, but in truth, the Department of International Magical Cooperation does a lot of work, particularly with trade and sporting events," Arthur said. "She's unusual in that she's a Muggleborn in such a relatively high position. Sadly, I think there won't be many others."

Sirius scoffed. "Baum's lucky. Or unlucky, depending on your thoughts on the matter. Sadly, Blood Purity views still hold sway in the Ministry. Nothing as blatant as actual overt discrimination, but, well, if Ron and Hermione ever went for the same position, Ron would win nine times out of ten."

"Which is why I keep up with Muggle subjects," Hermione said.

Fleur looked at Hermione. "How do you manage that?"

Hermione smiled. "Before Hogwarts sent me the letter, I very nearly considered getting my O-Levels in a couple of years. That's how far ahead I was." Her face fell. "Not that it won me many friends…"

"Well, you have us, don't you?" Harry asked.

The bushy-haired girl smiled again. He was glad she dropped all of those subjects from last year. Her hunger for knowledge was one thing, as was her eagerness to excel. But to nearly kill yourself through exhaustion was another. He kicked himself for not noticing the signs sooner. "You're not going to run yourself ragged again, are you?" he asked.

"Not that much. I've already sat for my O-Levels, shortly after we came back from Hogwarts. I'm actually more worried about my A-Levels, not to mention the OWL and NEWTS," she said. "I mean, Hogwarts and magic is great, but I need to think about more for my future, just in case."

"Well said," Hercule said, nodding in admiration.

Harry agreed with her. He would probably remain in the magical world, true, but he couldn't blame Hermione for wanting to hedge her bets. Especially given her quixotic nature: when she first met Kreacher, she had kicked up a fuss about House Elves until Sirius gently explained the symbiotic nature of the relationship between House Elf and their master. She still didn't like it, and intended to find ways to improve their lot, but at least she wouldn't be trying to free any willy-nilly. She even interviewed Kreacher, who seemed to find the concept of questions being asked of him a novelty. At first an irritating novelty, but he seemed to open up slightly when he realised Hermione was genuinely interested.

"Well, I wish you the best of luck in our world," Sirius said. "Merlin knows we need more skilled wizards and witches in prominent positions, regardless of their birth. I won't blame you if you seek your fortune in the Muggle world, though, as long as you're happy."

Hermione nodded. "Thanks, Sirius."

"Madam Baum is admirable in her tenacity," Hercule said sagely.

Arthur Weasley nodded. "I don't think Bashir's going to give her any rest on the magic carpets issue, though…"

* * *

Soon, the time came for them to be seated, though not before Harry, Sirius, and Hercule bought a bunch of Omnioculars. And soon, they were making their way to the massive stadium for the finals of the Quidditch World Cup…

 **CHAPTER 2 ANNOTATIONS:**

 **And there you have it. Crouch's replacement, a bit of fluff and friendship, just killing time until the World Cup.**

 **Now, in case you guys are going to howl about Hermione having basically a foot in both worlds, I wouldn't be surprised if she tried this, even in canon. And I wouldn't be surprised if, by the time she was twelve, she could have taken her O-Levels if she made the effort. I'm sure her parents probably encouraged her to take her O-Levels after her third year. I've also nipped SPEW in the bud, or at least made it so that Hermione is a bit more thoughtful and less quixotic.**

 **I also hope you like Baum. I wanted someone who, while wrung dry by the bureaucracy in her department, nonetheless does her job out of a sense of duty (like Crouch), but is considerate enough to her underlings (unlike Crouch). You'll notice, for example, that not only does she called Percy 'Weasley' (as opposed to Crouch's 'Weatherby'), but also asks him to come along. She doesn't like Bagman because she views him as sloppy and stupid, unable to think of details, and only capable of grand gestures and squandering funds (which is frankly true). Unfortunately, like Crouch in canon, she's going to fall under the Imperius. Whether she shares Barty Crouch Senior's fate in canon is another matter.**

 **1\. 'Phossy jaw' was a horrific condition suffered by those who worked in match factories, at the time when matches were mostly made from white phosphorous. Imagine having your jaw rot. Not a pleasant thought. I made Emma Granger a maxillofacial surgeon in** ** _Is Your Great Aunt an A.I?!_** **, in tribute to a fic I had seen her as such in (I am certain it is** ** _Sympathetic Properties_** **by Mr Norrell), but here, I wanted to mix it up a little.**


	4. Chapter 3: The Quidditch World Cup

**CHAPTER 3:**

 **THE QUIDDITCH WORLD CUP**

Before the game began, Fleur changed back into her everyday robes. And as they walked to the stadium, she gently held Harry's hand in her own. Along the way, Fleur warned Harry, and the others, about the Veela cheerleaders for the Bulgarian team. "When they come on," she said, "place your fingers in your ears. They use their singing to enhance their allure. From a distance, though, the allure will not affect you, as long as your fingers are in your ears."

"I know, Miss Delacour," Arthur said. "I've had to deal with Veela before. But thanks for the warning."

Sirius merely smiled. "And I like to live dangerously, Fleur."

"Besides," Remus said with an amused snort, "the allure merely turns you into a drooling, lust-filled idiot, right? Well, no change there, then."

"Hey!" Sirius snapped half-heartedly at the good-natured jibe. Fleur and Harry laughed, and so too did the others.

"Maybe we should have brought some earplugs or something," Dr Dan Granger muttered.

"Not a bad idea," Remus said.

"You don't do that to people, do you, Fleur?" Ginny asked. She had been somewhat subdued since learning about Harry and Fleur's relationship, but surprisingly had managed to accept that. Harry still saw a faint air of jealousy in the Weasley daughter's gaze, but she was hiding it well. It helped that Fleur and Ginny had had something of a talk earlier, with the French girl offering to help counsel Ginny with any relationship troubles.

"Of course not, Ginevra," Fleur said. "I am not…what do you say in English? A scarlet woman?"

Ginny seemed to disagree, but kept it to herself. Eventually, she began asking what Beauxbatons was like, and it carried on until they were climbing the stairs in the stadium.

The group made it to the Top Box, and found their seats (the Grangers and Harry breathing in awe at how massive the stadium was). They were amongst the first to arrive, save for Madam Baum, who was sitting at a seat of her own, pinching the bridge of her nose. Harry and Fleur got seats next to her. She looked up when they did so, before nodding. "Percy Weasley's with Bagman, putting the finishing touches on this. He's very competent, and not afraid of doing the boring work," she said.

"Must be hard on you," Harry said sympathetically.

A bitter chuckle wormed its way from her throat. "I've got big shoes to fill. Crouch was a hard son of a bitch, if you would excuse my language, but he was also hard-working and extremely competent. And at least for a Pureblood, he didn't give a damn about the purity of your blood, just that you did your job well. Whereas Bagman…" She shook her head. "And he still doesn't care about Jorkins. She's a ditz, at least nowadays, but even so…" Baum looked at Harry, pityingly. "Must be hard on you, too. I mean, 'the Boy Who Lived'. All that nonsense. Famous before you were out of nappies. All for something your parents probably did." She sighed, turning back to look across the stadium, and at the blackboard which advertisements wrote themselves across. "See that blackboard? All you'd have to do is say something like 'I Use Comet Brooms' or something like that, and people would snap it up by the truckload. Not that you'd do that. I can see that you hate it. The fame, I mean. I can't claim to be famous, but I know it's a double-edged sword." Another bitter chuckle came from her throat. "I'd bet if that would-be wizard Nazi ever did come back, they'd all shove you out in front of them and expect you to defeat him. Again."

"Do you mean Voldemort?" Harry asked.

"Well, I didn't mean Morgoth," Baum remarked. Noticing his look of confusion, she said, "From JRR Tolkien. Anyway, that's what they'll expect of you. The question is, are you ready?"

"I don't know," Harry said. Baum's quiet diatribe had the air of a confession.

"Hmm. Better answer than I thought," Baum said. She straightened, though, when the dignitaries began arriving. The mask of the competent Ministry employee was put back on.

Over the next little while, VIPs trickled in, with Arthur shaking the hand of each and every one, and Percy, who had arrived later, standing up and sitting down so fast, it was as if he was on a spring. Harry recognised the Minister for Magic Cornelius Fudge, of course. And Draco Malfoy and his father, when they came in, accompanied by a rather haughty woman who could only be his mother. She did look mildly amused and annoyed when Sirius greeted her as 'Cissy': Sirius and Narcissa Malfoy were cousins. Some snide remarks were exchanged that Harry and Fleur endeavoured to ignore. Thankfully, unlike Diagon Alley in second year, Arthur and Lucius Malfoy didn't come to blows. And he certainly didn't make remarks about Hermione and her parents being there, despite the fact that he looked like he badly wanted to. Ditto for Fleur and her family.

Shortly afterwards, Bagman blundered into the box. With Fudge's approval, he began his announcing duties. Harry and Fleur had to admit, now he was in his element. And then, he announced the Bulgarian mascots.

Harry didn't need the prompting from Fleur to stick his fingers in his ears. And most of the men from their little party, save for Sirius (who wanted to live dangerously), did so. He watched as the hundred or so inhumanly beautiful women with the blonde hair and pale skin that shone like moonlight began singing and dancing. He looked around, and saw the entranced looks on some of the others present, like Bagman and Fudge. Draco and Lucius had their own fingers in their ears, and for a moment, the look Harry shared with them was not one of loathing. Instead, it was a sense of reluctant camaraderie, in that they had at least the sense to avoid the Veela mascots' allure(1).

Harry could see why Fleur didn't think highly of them. These Veela had little shame to them. Of course, not all Veela were as shameless as these ones, according to Fleur. It's just that the Bulgarians used them partly to help them get their own way in Quidditch. That, and they didn't seem to care about restraint. And once you made sure you weren't under their allure, they certainly didn't hold a candle to Fleur. Fleur didn't need to flirt or flaunt her beauty. She just was, an elegant angel who saw no reason to make herself more attractive than she already was. It didn't mean that she didn't flirt on occasion, she was just more subtle about it than this lot.

Sirius was grinning rather stupidly, the only one of the men in their little party not to have fingers in his ears. Hermione would later say he was like Odysseus, wanting to hear the Siren's song(2). Sirius nodded happily. It was entirely what he was going for, and he said that, having only recently gotten out of Azkaban, he deserved to indulge a little.

Once the Veela had finished their performance (the dancing was quite excellent and elegant, and if it weren't for them shamelessly using their allure, he would have been more impressed), and made their way to the side of the stage, the Irish mascots had their rebuttal. A green comet seemed to fly through the air, before splitting in two, with the two halves heading to the goalposts and creating a rainbow that arced over the entire pitch. The two comets then merged, and became a shamrock (Harry saw through the Omnioculars the tiny little men in green waistcoats, Leprechauns), which began to rain gold coins upon the stands.

Fleur hissed at Ron, who was sitting nearby, "Remember, this gold vanishes within hours."

Ron looked rather disappointed. "I was going to pay Harry back for the Omnioculars he got me."

"It's a _gift_ , Ron," Harry retorted.

Soon, the Bulgarian team began flying out, announced by Bagman. Ron was excited to see Krum. Harry peered at the sullen teenager through his Omnioculars. Fleur had told him about how he had intervened when the Bulgarian Beater Volkov had made unwanted advances. There was a slight pang of jealousy, but it also went to show you couldn't tell by appearances, given how he looked. He was glad of Krum's chivalry.

The Irish team soon flew out, along with commentary from Bagman. And then, the referee, Hassan Mostafa, came out, with the chest holding the Quidditch balls. "Who do you think will win?" Harry asked Fleur in a quiet murmur.

"Ireland," she said quietly. "They are both good teams, but matched up against each other, the Bulgarians only have two advantages: their mascots, and Krum. I have been talking to Fred and George about this. They think that Ireland will win, but Krum will get the Golden Snitch. I would not be surprised if they are right."

Lucius Malfoy overheard their conversation, and remarked, "An interesting outcome, Miss Delacour. We shall see then how it turns out."

The match was very hectic, and the twins' assessment of the situation was pretty spot-on. Ireland was trouncing Bulgaria, with only one goal to their name. After that goal, Harry had to hurriedly stuff his fingers in his ears to avoid the allure when they started dancing.

Harry was impressed, even as he winced from the impact, when Krum and the Irish Seeker, Aidan Lynch, went into a dive, only for Krum to pull out at the last second, and having Lynch crash to the ground. According to his Omnioculars, which could actually name moves it was viewing, it was called a Wronski Feint, a high-risk Seeker manoeuvre that could take out a rival Seeker…if done correctly. If he remembered correctly, he had done something similar during a Quidditch game against Ravenclaw last year.

As the game progressed, it got dirtier and dirtier. The Leprechauns' taunting didn't help matters, and eventually, the Veela began dancing again. This time, though, they targeted only Mostafa, the referee. Harry and Fleur groaned in unison, and Harry was sure that the words Fleur was saying was not very complimentary French. He needed to step up his learning of the language.

A Mediwizard brought Mostafa to his senses, and he then tried to send the Veela off, much to their fury and that of the Bulgarian team. The Beaters tried to protest, but when they refused to accede to Mostafa's demands, he awarded a couple of penalty shots to Ireland.

After yet another penalty shot was awarded shortly thereafter, the Leprechauns formed themselves into a hand giving the opposing mascots the finger. Harry was far from surprised that the Veela took offense to that, transforming into their harpy-like forms. He remembered Fleur's own transformation, when she showed it to him shortly after his Horcrux was removed. She was still attractive, at least, whereas the Veela on the pitch were ugly, flame-throwing harpies, quite literally. It was utter bedlam in the stadium below as wizards tried to stop the pitched battle.

"Oh, for Merlin's sake," Baum groaned from where she was seated, putting her face in her hands.

"Is it always this bad?" he asked Fleur.

"No, not always. And sometimes, it can be worse," Fleur remarked, looking at the battle in disgust.

Shortly thereafter, Lynch began diving, and Krum, his nose bleeding from a blow from a Bludger, followed. Ironically, the end result was the same as the Wronski Feint: Lynch ended up crashing, and Krum, despite his bleeding nose, was triumphant, now holding up the Snitch. Lynch was soon swarmed by Veela, who were pretty sore losers, to say the least.

The final score was Ireland: 170, and Bulgaria: 160. As the twins had predicted, Ireland won, but Krum managed to get the Snitch. Harry heard Ron's growled protest, that Krum should have let it go on for longer, but ignored it.

The Bulgarian Minister for Magic muttered, albeit in a thickly-accented voice, "Well, we fought bravely."

"You can speak English?!" Fudge yelped accusingly. "But…why did you let me do all the miming and…"

"It was very funny," the Bulgarian Minister said with a shrug. Harry couldn't argue with the man, or begrudge him his fun. Fudge, from what he knew, was something of an idiot. Good at shaking hands and getting things done, but not very good at executive decisions. After all, he was the one to post Dementors at Hogwarts. And put Hagrid into Azkaban in order to be seen as doing something during that whole Chamber of Secrets fiasco. And given what Sirius and Hercule Delacour told him about Azkaban, combined with his own experience with the Dementors, it seemed like overkill.

The Bulgarian team came up first. Harry didn't fail to notice the way Volkov shot him a jealous glance when he saw how close he was to Fleur. Krum, who looked a right mess (two black eyes and a still-bleeding nose), noticed both Fleur and Harry, and gave them a curt nod. Harry gave what he felt was a reassuring smile back.

The Irish team, having finished a lap of honour, came up, with Lynch being supported by two of his comrades. He looked concussed, but happy despite that, given that his team won.

It had been an enjoyable occasion, the chaos and antics notwithstanding. Harry and Fleur looked at each other, and smiled. "Does this count as a first date?" Harry asked, on something of an impulse.

After a moment's contemplation, Fleur said, "I will think about it, _mon ami_."

Even as they left the stadium, Harry thought about whether he would do well in such an event. Not long ago, it would have been his most prominent dream, to be a champion Seeker. But now, after the events of last year, and the revelations of so many things about his life, he wasn't so sure anymore. A Quidditch player? An Unspeakable? An Auror? A teacher at Hogwarts?

Well, whatever path he chose, there was one thing he hoped would be consistent. He hoped he would share the rest of his life with the girl he was holding hands with, Fleur Delacour.

 **CHAPTER 3 ANNOTATIONS:**

 **Sorry about the wait. Anyway, here's the Quidditch World Cup finals, albeit with some tweaks and changes. I actually forgot Ginny was meant to be here, so I decided to put a little thing in here about her shortly after finishing this chapter. She is jealous of Fleur for snagging Harry, but I think Arthur had a long talk with her, and Fleur's talk has helped mollify Ginny (as oppose to Molly-fying, ha ha). Ginny's still jealous, but because Fleur has reached out to her and tried to be nice, they have a less antagonistic relationship than they could have had. And Ginny's certainly not calling Fleur 'Phlegm'. Well, except maybe in the privacy of her own head. Ginny will come around.**

 **I'm astonished. At the time of publishing this chapter, this story has already hit 8.5K views, while** ** _In Spite of Obstinate Men_** **has passed the 200K mark. This story has already gotten 300 favourites, too.**

 **Review-answering time!** **NarutoKushina** **: Fleur will be shocked and angered, but she will also hold her tongue. Harry, meanwhile, will be able to clear up a lot of the rancour by using a magical vow, and even offering to use Veritaserum. Unfortunately, his participation and his closeness to Fleur may potentially alienate more of Hogwarts than it did in canon, which will put further strain on the relationship.**

 **IronWolfe** **: Unfortunately, I'm not sure whether Baum will go the same way as Barty Crouch Senior did in canon.**

 **coduss** **: It is an actual French term. It basically means an unruly child. The phrase existed long before** ** _Metal Gear Solid_** **.**

 **Guest** **: Hermione nearly took her O-Levels. This is different to OWLs. She probably had enough Muggle education to consider doing so before she learned of Hogwarts. I'd like to think she and her parents had this as an alternative.**

 **spectre4hire** **: The Grangers are always good fanfic fodder. In recent fanfics, I've tried to include them a bit more. And it is a shame Rowling didn't elaborate on them. Given the little bits and bobs she's been giving the story's background on Pottermore, she has no excuse on not giving them some more backstory.**

 **Dovahkin1503** **: Yes, Baum is an OC. I thought that this was perfectly clear. Thanks for your praise for her.**

 **ossifrage** **: I get where you're coming from. Some typos do get left in, but mine are kept to a minimum partly through my own vigilance and partly through the magic of doing my chapters in a Word document beforehand (thus, using spellcheck). And there's some interesting stories out there that have some egregious errors of both spelling and grammar. Some still slip through, as do occasional continuity errors. I'm glad you appreciate the effort I put into these things.**

 **1\. I see a lot of fanfics where the Malfoys make idiots of themselves while under the Veelas' allure. And while they're bastards, I did want to show that they also had, on occasion, a bit of a brain in their skulls. Hence this little bit. It's also why I added that bit where Lucius comments on the twins' theory without getting nasty, to show a man who is not just a sneering pantomime villain, but also having surprising, if small, touches of humanity. He's still a dick, of course.**

 **2\. For those of you not in the know, during the events of** ** _The Odyssey_** **, Odysseus and his men have to sail close to the island of the Sirens. Although his men stop up their ears with wax, Odysseus wants to hear the Siren's song, and so orders his men to tie him to the mast, and not cut him loose until they were away from the island. Sirius is taking a leaf out of Odysseus' book, and I reckon Hermione would know enough to draw the comparison.**


	5. Chapter 4: Riot

**CHAPTER 4:**

 **RIOT**

There were celebrations well into the night, and Fleur had to use a strong Silencing Charm to be able to go to sleep. So when she woke up, her father peering out of the tent in horror, she thought, at first, that the celebrations hadn't finished. But when her brain finally processed the screams of terror and the sounds of explosions and spells, she realised that celebrations of a very different kind were taking place.

" _Father, what's the matter? Why is there screaming?_ " Fleur demanded.

In a low, urgent voice, her father said, " _Fleur, get up, now. Take Gabrielle and head into the woods. I think Arthur Weasley's sending the children and the Grangers into the woods._ "

" _But what is going on?_ "

Hercule Delacour snarled furiously. When roused, the usually pleasant and rotund detective was a force of nature every bit as potent as his part-Veela wife and child (discounting Gabrielle, who hadn't awakened her allure). Even though she knew he wouldn't hurt her, he was still frightening in such a state. " _Drunken Death Eaters, going on a riot for old time's sake, I think. Your mother and I are going to try and help those Muggles they're toying with in their cowardice._ "

* * *

Fleur and Gabrielle soon came across Harry, Hermione, Ron, and the Grangers arguing with the Malfoy boy. "…want to show off your knickers, Granger, then feel free to hang around. They can spot a Mudblood a mile away."

Fleur tapped the boy on the shoulder, and when he looked, Fleur slapped him, sending him spinning to the ground. "Every time you use that word in front of me, along with any others I deem objectionable, _little boy_ ," she hissed contemptuously, "you get another bruise to add to the collection. Bruises are merely blood under the skin, and they turn equally muddy in colour, given time."

Malfoy's eyes flashed angrily. "You can't do this to me! My father…"

"Your father is amongst those _salauds_ , I am sure of it, and I would be glad to see _my_ father put him into Azkaban where he belongs, though Azkaban seems to be only for those who are not rich enough to buy their way out."

"Veela slut," Mafoy sneered, only to be bitchslapped again.

"Bad faith trash," Fleur sneered back, hitting him with the full force of her haughtiness. The Malfoys may be amongst the most haughty families in Britain, but Fleur was a part-Veela, French, and very capable of wielding haughtiness like a weapon. He was a rank amateur by comparison. "Get out of my sight, little boy, _or I will set that gelled hair aflame_."

"You haven't heard the last of this, bitch," Malfoy snarled over his shoulder as he scurried away.

Emma Granger shook her head. "What a nasty little brat. Is it true families like his go in for inbreeding in a big way?"

"You have no idea," Ron said, shaking his head. "By the way, Fleur, that was wicked, slapping Malfoy!"

Fleur knew that this was some sort of English colloquialism. "Thank you. But we need to get going!"

" _Fleur, I'm scared!_ " Gabrielle cried.

" _I know, Gabrielle. I am too. Come on, we need to get to safety,_ " Fleur said soothingly to her sister.

* * *

Along the way, they encountered some Beauxbatons students, including Audrey, who asked Fleur, " _Have you seen Madame Maxime, Fleur? We've lost her!_ "

" _I haven't seen her, Audrey. Is everyone okay? Where's Marie?_ "

" _Marie got hit by a Cutting Curse. Nothing too bad, but Madame Maxime was taking her to the nearest Healer. What the hell is wrong with these people, Fleur? We come over, trying to enjoy some Quidditch, and some former Death Eaters start causing havoc!_ " Audrey clutched her head as she tried not to panic.

Ron, although he couldn't really speak French, put his hands on her shoulders. "Audrey, it's okay, my dad and Fleur's parents are helping the Ministry subdue these gits."

"But what about those people they were levitating?" Emma Granger asked. "Should we have just left them?"

Fleur shook her head. "I do not like it any more than you do. But you cannot use a wand, and you have no weapon. The Malfoy son was right: should you advertise yourself being a Muggle, they would attack you. And they would have to be careful what they do, lest those animals drop those people from a great height."

"They're attacking people without magic for fun," Dan Granger snarled bitterly. "Like Ku Klux Klan members attacking African-Americans. Despicable."

"Not just that," Ron said. "They also don't like those they call 'blood-traitors', like my family. A lot of them are rich, too. Many bought their way out of Azkaban."

"Like I said, despicable," Dan Granger said. "Should we keep moving?"

Harry nodded. "Ginny and the twins are up ahead, we need to make sure they're safe."

* * *

No such luck, though. They came across some Goblins cackling over a bag of gold, presumably winnings from a bet, and a trio of Veela who were enticing some men. Ron nearly joined them, though Harry and Dan Granger immediately looked away, and while Hermione steered Ron away, Fleur snapped some uncomplimentary words in French towards them. Their jeering reply was met with a retort from Fleur, who pointed to Harry proudly. The Veela ended the argument with the same gesture that the Leprechauns had angered them with during the Tournament.

"What did you say to them Fleur?"

"I admonished them for conduct unbecoming a Veela. They said I did not have a boyfriend. I said you were my boyfriend. Those mascot Veela give the rest of us a bad name," Fleur muttered.

They encountered Bagman briefly, who looked rather pale, and certainly not as energetic as earlier. He also claimed to know nothing about the riot, swearing and Apparating as soon as he heard. Whether to help, or to escape, they didn't know.

By the light emanating from their wands, they found a clearing. As they sat, Fleur comforting the still jittery Gabrielle, they discussed what was happening. Dan Granger muttered, "It's like a combination of soccer hooligan and Ku Klux Klan, that lot. I'd ask what's wrong with these people, but it sounds like a long list."

"And the gall of that blonde ferret, calling my daughter a Mudblood, right in front of us, her parents," Emma growled. "Does he have webbed toes or something?"

Ron chuckled at the thought. "Nah. Well, I don't think so. I don't think any of us have seen Draco barefoot. Not that we want to. If we're lucky, Dad'll be able to pull up Draco's father on something. Merlin knows my Dad's been trying for years."

"Well, he certainly seems about as intelligent as someone inbred would be," Emma muttered. "At least your father's nice, even if he finds it hard to understand our technology. It'd be a mistake to give him an X-Ray machine, though."

"What's that?" Ron asked.

Hermione said, "It's a device that lets you take pictures of bones. But the radiation…I mean, energy it gives off is dangerous if not used right."

Harry nodded, before frowning. "Did you guys hear that?"

They did, hearing footsteps. They thought they saw a shape lingering at the edge of the clearing.

Dan called out, "Who's there? Show yourself. Are you injured?"

There came a brief, sinister chuckle, before suddenly, they heard a bellow. "MORSMORDRE!"

Green light erupted from the darkness, and wormed into the sky, creating a green shimmering shape silhouetted against the stars. Harry felt a shiver down his spine, long before the screaming erupted anew. It was a sinister shape, of a snake emerging from the mouth of a skull.

" _Sacrebleu_ ," Fleur breathed in horror.

"Oh my God…" Hermione whispered. "Harry, we need to get going."

"Why? What the hell is that?" Harry asked, although he could guess the answer.

"The Dark Mark…the calling card of the Death Eaters and Voldemort," Fleur murmured.

But even as they got to their feet, a group of wizards Apparated in. Harry, Fleur and Hermione pushed everyone down to the ground just as they nearly got hit by a hail of Stunners.

"Stop that! That's my son!" came the voice of Arthur Weasley.

"Even so, Arthur, someone in this location conjured the Dark Mark," Baum said, being amongst the wizards who had appeared. "I'll have to check their wands to make sure. Diggory, take some men and search the area. As it is unlikely for it to be these ones, the culprit may still be around, even Stunned given all those spells flying around."

With brutal efficiency, their wands were taken from them, checked with a spell, and then handed back to them. "Okay, thank God for that," Baum said. "We do NOT need a scandal like that, not after…well, this!" She pointed to the Dark Mark hovering above them. "Now, you lot, I'll have to separate you and take statements from each of you. You're the only witnesses close enough to have seen or heard anything that happened."

"One question, please, Madam Baum," Fleur said. "Are my parents all right?"

Baum nodded. "The Delacours did some fine spellwork. They helped save those poor people. Angered those idiots something fierce. But I'll have to take statements now…"

* * *

It took a long time for Baum to finish, and once she did so, she allowed Arthur Weasley, along with the newly arrived Hercule, to take them back to the camping grounds. Gabrielle clung to her father, babbling in French for a time, before they finally headed back. The culprit hadn't been found, though.

As they did so, Ron asked, "What's the big deal with that Dark Mark thing, anyway?"

Hercule scowled. "The 'big deal' is that it was the calling card of the Death Eaters and their master. Every time they murdered someone, they would conjure the Dark Mark above the location. There has been many a time when people have arrived back to their homes, only to find that vile insignia hovering above their homes, and they soon learned to fear for their families' lives when they saw such a thing." Hercule then chuckled bitterly. "The ironic thing is, the moment the rioters saw it, they actually fled. Apolline and I, along with Monsieur Black, had already managed to save Monsieur Roberts and his family before then, and the poor people are currently in the hands of Obliviators."

"And they did that for _fun_ ," Dan Granger snarled in barely-restrained anger. "If I got my hands on them, I'd show them what you can use a dental drill for. Without anaesthetic. But if they were Death Eaters and followers of this Voldemort, why did they flee?"

"Dan, think about it," Arthur said, having been persuaded to use the first names of Hermione's parents by them earlier that day. "Those Death Eaters either used their money or connections to get out of being sentenced to Azkaban. They also renounced, quite loudly, any allegiance to You-Know-Who. A frequent claim was that they were under the Imperius Curse."

"That's the mind-control spell," Emma mused. "Hermione's read up on these 'Unforgivable Curses'. I see what you mean, though. If Voldemort was really back, he'd be really angry with them for renouncing him."

"But does that mean the person who conjured up the Dark Mark was supporting the Death Eaters?" Hermione asked. "Or did they mean to scare them deliberately?"

"I don't know," Arthur said. "But only Death Eaters knew how to conjure up the Dark Mark. If they weren't a former Death Eater, I'd be surprised."

Harry, his hand in Fleur's own, was troubled. He then said to her, "I'm sorry you had to go through this, Fleur. If it weren't for Sirius getting you guys tickets..."

"It is not your fault," she said quietly. "These… _salauds_ decided to ruin our enjoyment of this night, _mon ami_. I still enjoyed what I could of it." A wry, if tired smirk touched her features. "However, I find that my desire to attend Quidditch games somewhat diminished."

Harry chuckled, and so did a few of the others. "I'm with you, Miss Delacour," Dan Granger said. "Maybe you guys should find a way to video the matches."

"I think more than a few enterprising wizards have tried to do that, Dan," Arthur said. "I get these…Vee-See-Arrs through my office a lot of the time, and those video camera thingies."

Like that, some of the tension dissolved. But it would never go away.

* * *

There was certainly an air of tension and fear back at the camping grounds. Ginny and the twins had returned back safely, and the Weasleys, along with Sirius, Lupin, and Apolline Delacour looked relieved to see their loved ones still all right.

Harry and Fleur looked at each other for a moment, before they kissed briefly. Not a long, lingering one, though their lips met. Just the briefest of contacts, as a goodnight kiss, before they went back to their separate tents. A moment's intimate contact, to reassure each other that they were all right, and then, they separated. Even so, they both knew that, even once they left each other tomorrow, they would be seeing each other again soon enough at Hogwarts, for the Tri-Wizard Tournament.

They didn't know it, but events would happen that would put even greater pressure on their friendship, events that threatened to snuff out their love even as it was only now beginning to grow…

 **CHAPTER 4 ANNOTATIONS:**

 **And there you have it, folks. The riot at the Quidditch World Cup, done somewhat differently. Baum is saner than Crouch in dealing with things, Malfoy gets bitchslapped by Fleur, and the Grangers ponder the inadvisability of giving an X-Ray machine to Arthur Weasley.**

 **Anyway, there'll be a brief timeskip to either the Hogwarts Express, or to the Feast. Depending, anyway. I'm actually considering writing that chapter, if the latter, from the point of Barty Crouch Junior/'Mad-Eye'. I enjoyed doing so for the original version of** ** _Lux in Tenebris Lucet_** **, and that was copied and pasted over into** ** _Henry Ashford and the Goblet of Fire_** **when the original version of** ** _Lux in Tenebris Lucet_** **was abandoned.**

 **Review-answering time! Stormbow: Many do hate Baum, partly because she's a Muggleborn, and partly because she's of the mind to 'measure twice, cut once'. They see her as a fusspot. And she's still quite abrasive and blunt, particularly to people she views as idiots. As for Lucius, he still views her with contempt, but unlike Draco, he at least knows how to hide things better, though he's still snide and snarky most of the time. As for Volkov, he's a Beater with the Bulgarian team, not a member of Durmstrang. Krum's unique in that he's a prodigy. And as for Fleur and Harry keeping it slow, that is partly due to her heritage, and partly because they don't want to screw it up.**

 **Brian1124 : No, Odysseus did so out of curiosity. You're thinking of when he had to sail between Scylla and Charybdis (Charybdis being the whirlpool in question).**

 **No numbered annotations again.**


	6. Chapter 5: Moody-Ness

**CHAPTER 5:**

 **MOODY-NESS**

To play a role was most enjoyable, Barty Crouch Junior reflected. While he had misgivings about this plan of his master's (and he was certainly one of the few who could question Voldemort, providing he had reasonable objections), he had to admit that this plan had merit. Part of doing what he intended to do was psychological warfare, turning part of Magical Britain, and perhaps the Wizarding World, against Harry Potter. Part of it helped with the ritual that was needed to provide Voldemort with a body: it required the target to have gone through a year of ordeals, and by forcing Harry into the Tri-Wizard Tournament, Crouch guaranteed that(1). And part of it was to take Harry away, just as he reached perhaps his greatest triumph.

The main problem was that, with no other allies, Crouch was forced to rely on Winky to keep his master safe and alive. That, and that fool Jorkins. Voldemort could keep her under the Imperius with ease, and she made a most obedient servant. She had managed to supply details about the Tri-Wizard Tournament that Barty had not been able to winkle out of his father's stroke-addled mind before he was killed.

The Quidditch World Cup Finals gave Barty an opportunity to set the tone for what would follow. He had used the old Invisibility Cloak his father had hid himself under, and observed the proceedings. He noted that Potter was close to the half-breed spawn of Hercule Delacour, and she would be going to Hogwarts with the Beauxbatons delegation. Who knows, she might end up becoming Beauxbatons' Champion, and a rift might form between them, causing Potter even more pain and misery.

He'd actually followed Potter and his group quite deliberately into the woods during the traitors' riot. He actually had to suppress laughter when he saw that traitor Malfoy's crotchspawn getting slapped by Fleur. The girl certainly had spirit, as did the Mudblood Granger and her Muggle parents. While he thought Muggles were beneath him and his ilk in so many ways, it didn't mean that he couldn't appreciate what they could do, and he had to admire their self-righteous fury. He also had to suppress laughter again when he heard the rioting traitors being compared to the Ku Klux Klan and Muggle soccer hooligans. How quaint the worldview of a Muggle was.

Unfortunately, he had lost the element of surprise (by this point, he had put the Cloak away, hoping the darkness would conceal him), as they had heard him. He decided then was as good a time as any to send the Dark Mark into the sky to scare the sheep. To let them know that a true wolf, not those traitorous pretenders, walked amongst them. He hoped, fervently, that Lucius Malfoy, given a combination of drink and seeing the Dark Mark appear, pissed his treacherous robes.

Now came what would be the most difficult, and yet, most fun part of the plan: playing a role. Namely that of Mad-Eye Moody, the infamously paranoid Auror who was currently in the depths of one of the compartments of Barty's trunk. He had spent the time since the World Cup researching his target, noting down behavioural quirks and tells that would be vital to playing the role. He was confident he could fool even Dumbledore, whom had been a good friend of Moody's. Of course, he made sure his Occlumency shields were up to par: both that senile old fart Dumbledore and that fence-sitting coward Snape were excellent at Legilimency, and Voldemort had practised on Barty until he was certain that Barty would pass muster.

Now, soon, it was time to make an entrance. He stood outside the doors to the Great Hall, intending to enter when the time was right to derail that old fool Dumbledore's speech. A storm was raging outside Hogwarts, lending even greater gravitas to what he was about to do. Who knows? Perhaps, if he was lucky, there'd be thunder and lightning just as he entered, for even greater effect.

He heard the old fool come to the part of his speech about to announce the Tri-Wizard Tournament, and decided that now was as good a time as any to make an entrance. His timing could not have been any more perfect, as there was a deafening rumble of thunder, as if some vast god was critiquing Dumbledore's speech just as Barty threw open the doors. He limped over with Moody's staff, his travelling hood up, and made his way to the Head Table. Oh, he had never actually dreamed of sitting there, but he would for this year. Something about that privilege made him vaguely proud, even as he lowered his hood. And another lightning bolt flashed just as he did so. Oh, the weather was being very dramatic and cooperative tonight, he thought with an inward smile.

He resisted the urge to glare dramatically at the students, for Mad-Eye Moody had never been an attractive man, and many a run-in with Death Eaters and other ne'er-do-wells had worsened his looks, turning him into a magical parody of Frankenstein's Monster. All Moody needed was some bolts in his neck and a greenish pallor.

He approached Dumbledore, and stretched out a hand, which the old fool shook. Dumbledore then asked, very quietly, "Are you well, Alastor? I heard about what happened last night."

The morning's incident being when Barty had managed to detain Moody. Thankfully, he had Polyjuice Potion prepared so that he could pose as the paranoid Auror straight away. "They're convinced I imagined it, Albus," Barty growled in the surly tones of Moody. "They don't know what they're talking about. Kids these days."

With those niceties out of the way, Barty took his indicated seat, and sniffed the plate of sausages in front of him. Moody would do no less. As he ate using Moody's custom Panacea cutlery, designed to neutralise poisons, Barty used the magical eye to spy on the students in the Great Hall, with his attention more on the Gryffindor and Slytherin tables. He was amused to note the Malfoy boy still had a bruise from the Veela half-breed's slaps. He looked at Potter, along with Granger and the youngest Weasley boy.

Dumbledore announced him to be the next DADA teacher, and he was pleased to note, with his magical eye, that Snape was trying very hard to kill him through a glare alone. The only people to try and applaud were Dumbledore and Hagrid, and they soon ceased due to the embarrassing lack of accompaniment. He noticed that Hercule Delacour was at the Head Table too, though he doubted he was here in a teaching capacity. Dumbledore clearly retained him for some other purpose. Something to tell his master, no doubt, once he found out what that was. The student body seemed to be in awe, frightened of him. How much more frightened would they be to learn that a Death Eater walked amongst them? It was all he could do to keep a vicious smile off his face, and his Occlumency up.

He took a swig from the flask containing the Polyjuice Potion. As Moody was known to drink only from flasks he had filled and tested himself, it was very in-character. Fools, he sneered mentally at them.

Dumbledore picked up from where Barty had interrupted him. To give the old fool his due, he was able to get things back on track through his charisma. Dumbledore was a powerful wizard and a master orator, it was true, but his time had long since passed. "It is my very great pleasure to inform you that the Tri-Wizard Tournament will be taking place at Hogwarts this year."

"You're joking!" one of the Weasley twins yelped loudly in surprise. Barty noted that Potter didn't look surprised, nor did Malfoy's brat. Not surprising in the latter's case, given Lucius Malfoy's connections inside the Ministry. How did Potter learn, though?

"I am not joking, Mr Weasley," Dumbledore said. "Then again, now that you come to mention it, I did hear a most excellent one about a troll, a hag, and a leprechaun who all go into a bar…" McGonagall, the dried-up old witch, cleared her throat, and Dumbledore stopped himself. "But maybe this is not the time. Now, where was I? Ah, yes, the Tri-Wizard Tournament. Well, some of you will not know what it involves, so I hope those who do know will forgive me for giving a short explanation…"

Barty knew of the history of the Tournament. Most seemed excited about the return of the Tournament, though he noted that both Granger and Potter seemed concerned when Dumbledore mentioned the death toll that discontinued the original Tri-Wizard Tournament. There was an outcry when Dumbledore mentioned the age limit for the Tournament. Barty smirked inwardly. There were ways around it, as Barty, through Jorkins and his father, knew how the contestants would be chosen, and what precautions would be taken to prevent and/or deter any younger would-be contestants. Of course, Harry was fourteen, and thus under the limit. But as mentioned before, there were ways and means. The Goblet of Fire was far from infallible.

And what's more, once Harry was accepted as a champion, he had a binding contract on his magic. Should he refuse to compete, he would forfeit his magic and thus become a Squib. Not that such an outcome was likely, and the ritual they were banking on required that he keep his magic.

As Dumbledore dismissed them, Barty looked at Harry. For a moment, their eyes met. Barty thought, _Your fate has been decided, Potter. And nobody can save you from it. Savour this night, for from now on, your days are numbered, and I know that number_.

* * *

Harry lay in bed after the night's events. He hadn't been surprised at the announcement, as Fleur had already told him. But when he heard it, and about the death toll, he couldn't help but get a strange feeling of foreboding. True, the history of the Tournament was interesting, and had he been old enough, he would have entered like a shot. But the events of last year, and his association with Hercule Delacour, had him thinking. In his first year, there was Quirrelmort and the Philosopher's Stone. Second year, the Diary Horcrux and the Basilisk. Third year, Sirius Black and Peter Pettigrew, not to mention those Dementors. And as much as he wanted to hope that this year would be a better year, he knew that something would happen. Paranoia, pattern recognition, or just plain cynicism, he didn't know.

He was not happy that Quidditch had been cancelled to make way for the Tournament. But that was a minor thing. That new Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher, Moody, cut a very intimidating figure. If he remembered what Charlie Weasley had said, Moody was a famous Auror, but also ridiculously paranoid due to the enemies he made. Probably a good teacher, and they would need one after two dud ones and a brilliant one. Even so, Moody looked like something out of a horror film.

Still, there was one good thing about this year at least. He would get to see Fleur for much of the year. With any luck, she would be the Champion of Beauxbatons. He thought she deserved it, and not just because of her beauty. There was a strength to her that he knew lay within, strong in heart and mind. And she was old enough by now. Then again, he didn't know how the Champions were selected, and he didn't know much more about the students of Beauxbatons, save for Marie and Audrey.

As he slept that night, he had that dream again, the one he had had last year, of him and Fleur on the beach, the walk, hand-in-hand, culminating in a kiss. It would be one of the last peaceful nights he would have this year…

* * *

In Dumbledore's office, later that night, Dumbledore unwrapped a pair of artifacts in front of Hercule Delacour. One was an elaborate locket, the other a ring with a black stone set in it, with a distinctive sign carved into it. "The Goblins have removed the taints from these two. We're in negotiations to deal with the Cup of Helga Hufflepuff."

"And these are the others? The Locket of Salazar Slytherin…and this ring…"

"Is the Family Ring of the Gaunt Family."

Hercule nodded. Their joint researches had turned up much about Voldemort's family, and about the man's connection to the heavily-inbred Gaunts. "What a curious stone. That has the sign of the Deathly Hallows carved into it."

"Indeed," Dumbledore said. "It is the insignia of the Peverell family, from whom the Gaunts claim descent. But I believe it to be more than that, Hercule." He picked up the Ring, and gently rolled it around in his hands. "This stone is actually one of the Hallows. Turned into a trinket by the Gaunts, and into a vile Horcrux by Riddle. This, Hercule, is none other than the Resurrection Stone."

 **CHAPTER 5 ANNOTATIONS:**

 **So, here we have it. As mentioned in the annotations for the previous chapter, I wanted to do another chapter from the POV of Barty Crouch Junior masquerading as Moody after having done so for the original version of** ** _Lux in Tenebris Lucet_** **. That sequence was copied and pasted, with modifications, into** ** _Henry Ashford and the Goblet of Fire_** **. The next chapter will probably come with the big update later on, so I hope you enjoy this one.**

 **Review-answering time!** **Zeuseus** **: Wait and see for the relevant chapter. Their relationship will be strained for a time, but not broken. In fact, it will be Fleur who provides the means for Harry to clear his name, though it won't stop the shunning Harry gets from much of Hogwarts.**

 **Stormbow** **: For this version of events, Hermione will not be the only ally for the First Task. Wait and see…**

 **gabriel2005** **: Yes, but I honestly can't think of any single British organisation known for its racism that is anywhere near as famous as the Ku Klux Klan of America. I know of the Blackshirts, but I was under the impression they were more active in the 30s and 40s. And given how the Death Eaters dress in the films, it's not an unreasonable comparison for Dr Granger to make.**

 **1\. While writing** ** _In Spite of Obstinate Men_** **, I mentioned reading about this ritual in another fic. Someone helpfully replied that it was from** ** _A Marauder's Plan_** **by CatsAreCool.**


	7. Chapter 6: Arrival at Hogwarts

**CHAPTER 6:**

 **ARRIVAL AT HOGWARTS**

As beautiful and graceful and magnificent the carriage drawn by the Abraxans was, Fleur couldn't help but think they were trying a touch too hard to impress the students of Hogwarts with their entrance. She had remarked to that effect to Madame Maxime, who had shot an annoyed glance at Fleur. Still, Fleur had advised those who were coming to bring cloaks and scarves. She hadn't actually been to Hogwarts, but her father and Harry had indicated that it would be cold, to say the least.

Marie, as they flew through the air, was humming a song from a movie from last year. It was some weird American Muggle thing called _The Nightmare Before Christmas_ , and Marie was humming a song called _This is Halloween_. Appropriate, given that Halloween was tomorrow. Audrey was reading a book on the history of the Tri-Wizard Tournament, with Fleur looking at the pages occasionally. At the moment, they were looking at how the last proper Tournament ended, which was during a Task that involved catching a Cockatrice. Three of the judges were injured when the beast went on a rampage.

As much as she wanted to participate, if only to make her name known, Fleur had misgivings about the organisation of the Tournament. Marie was right in her crude assessment of Bagman's abilities: the man couldn't organise anything properly. He was all grand gestures, but he didn't care about the little details. Fleur was reminded of some of the attitudes of the Kings of France, when they demanded something, and everyone else was left scrambling to fulfil those wishes. Bagman was considerably more pleasant, but he was still an imbecile. The Tournament was meant to be safer than before, but how much safer could it be with a brain-damaged individual like him in charge?

" _We're approaching Hogwarts_ ," Madame Maxime called from her seat. " _Compose yourselves, and remember your decorum and deportment. We are the representatives of Beauxbatons, and we will_ _ **not**_ _disgrace the name of our establishment._ "

Soon, they landed, a bit roughly (so much for decorum and deportment, Fleur thought acidly), and Michel, one of the boys, scurried out and unfolded the steps. Fleur watched as Madame Maxime left the carriage, and then led the procession of the students to the door of the carriage, waiting for the Headmistress' signal. As Maxime talked, though, Fleur sighed. Maxime's English was very heavily accented, and Fleur liked to think that her accent, while still present, was not as thick. She would certainly not pronounce 'Dumbledore' as 'Dumbly-dorr'. Then, once Maxime gave the signal, Fleur led the others out. There were a dozen students from Beauxbatons who had made the delegation. She was surprised that her friends made the shortlist that meant they could participate in the Tri-Wizard Tournament, but she was glad of it.

The Hogwarts student body and staff were all gathered to see them. Fleur caught a glimpse of Harry and his friends, and saw, more clearly, her father. He shot a reassuring smile in their direction.

Madame Maxime was told to leave the Abraxans in the care of Hagrid, the Care of Magical Creatures teacher. Fleur remembered Harry speaking of the massive man, and wouldn't be surprised if he was half-Giant, like Maxime. Madame Maxime was touchy about her heritage, though, and understandably. There had been a minor scandal when she had been appointed Headmistress of Beauxbatons.

They were summoned to join Maxime and the Hogwarts students and faculty in trooping to the Black Lake. It was a magnificent-looking lake in the moonlight, Fleur felt. The night was a beautiful one. Shame it was so damnably cold!

The entrance of the Durmstrang students was, admittedly, a good one. A vortex seemed to appear within the Black Lake, and, in a reversal of convention, a ship emerged from rather than being consumed by the maelstrom. A shame the ship looked so grim and ugly, like they had hired the services of the Flying Dutchman, Fleur felt.

The Headmaster of Durmstrang, despite his affable air, was someone Fleur took an instant disliking to. Igor Karkaroff had a honeyed tongue, but eyes as cold as the Arctic. She was considerably more cheered to see Viktor Krum with them: his chivalry had not been forgotten by her. According to his headmaster, Krum had something of a head cold, so the three schools hurried back indoors. Fleur was grateful: even given the cloak, she was still cold. She resisted the urge to roll her eyes when she heard some foolish Hogwarts girls discussing whether Krum would sign something for them in lipstick. Krum looked about as comfortable with his celebrity as Harry did.

Fleur looked around the Great Hall with interest. True, it had nothing on Beauxbatons in her opinion, but it certainly had a charm all of its own, she thought. The enchanted ceiling was a nice touch, she felt. The seating had been arranged ahead of time: Beauxbatons students would be seated with the Ravenclaw students, while the Durmstrang students would be seated with Slytherin. She noted Draco Malfoy trying to ingratiate himself with Krum, who looked unimpressed. Krum and Fleur's eyes met, and for a moment, Krum indicated Malfoy with his eyes, as if to say, _I'm surrounded by idiots and sycophants_.

Fleur nodded, and then, once actually seated, turned to the girl next to her, a Hogwarts student of Asian extraction. " _Bonsoir_. I am Fleur Delacour," she said.

The girl smiled. "Cho Chang."

Some introductions were made, before the Beauxbatons students stood in respect as Madame Maxime entered. A few Hogwarts students laughed, but Fleur ignored them. Madame Maxime deserved respect. So too did Dumbledore, despite his appalling taste in clothing and his mask of a doddery, eccentric demeanour. He was, after all, the one who vanquished Grindlewald. Once Maxime was seated, the Beauxbatons students did so too.

Dumbledore then said, "Good evening, ladies and gentlemen, ghosts and, most particularly, guests." He beamed at both Beauxbatons and Durmstrang's respective delegations. He certainly had a commanding presence, despite his colourful robes. "I have great pleasure in welcoming you all to Hogwarts. I hope and trust that your stay here will be both comfortable and enjoyable."

Had her father not managed to instil a sense of enjoying novelty and tolerating discomfort, Fleur may very well have laughed disdainfully(1). She took Dumbledore's comment, instead, with a sense of respect, as they were guests in his demesne. Of course, this was no holiday. They needed to take classes here in addition to witnessing the Tournament. And one of their number would, of course, be participating in the Tournament.

"The Tournament will be officially opened at the end of the feast. I now invite you to eat, drink, and make yourselves at home!" Dumbledore concluded.

Fleur was pleased to note that the French dishes were cooked to perfection. Clearly, someone had been tutoring the House Elves of Hogwarts. Even so, she became a little irritated when she couldn't find some bouillabaisse within easy reach, and the others had taken what bowls had come through. Eventually, she decided to try the Gryffindor table.

Harry, Hermione, and Ron were there, and thankfully, there was an untouched bouillabaisse near Harry. Hermione was enjoying some herself. "Excuse me, Harry, may I have the bouillabaisse?" Fleur asked.

"Sure," Harry said, pushing it over to Fleur.

" _It's a very good one_ ," Hermione said to Fleur in French. " _It tastes just like the one I had in Marseilles._ "

Fleur smiled. " _Thanks, Hermione. I trust your parents are well?_ "

" _Yeah, though they were a bit frightened by what happened at the World Cup_ ," Hermione admitted.

" _Not surprising. Pity they didn't catch enough of those bastards_ ," Fleur murmured. Then, to Ron, she said, in English, "Audrey brought over a Go board for you. She wishes to play later."

Ron, who was still affected slightly by her allure, shook himself from his daze. "Oh, really? Thanks."

To Harry, Fleur said, "We shall talk later, _mon ami_." And she carefully took the bowl of bouillabaisse away, careful not to spill any on her robes.

As she got back to her seat, she noticed a Ravenclaw girl of thirteen with dirty blonde hair and protuberant eyes looking at her curiously. In fluent French, the girl said, " _You make a nice couple. It's nice to see two hearts and minds with less Wrackspurts than usual. But that's because of your bond._ "

As Fleur blinked, Cho chided, "Luna, please don't annoy Fleur."

"No, no, she did not annoy me. She just said something…strange, that is all," Fleur said.

"Well, Luna often says strange things," Cho remarked. "She's eccentric."

" _I like to think that I add a pinch of strangeness to Ravenclaw, like a spice_ ," Luna said in fluent French. " _Besides, too many people think too narrowly._ "

" _You'd like my father, then_ ," Fleur said.

" _Oh, he's still conventional, but at least he saw further than some last year_ ," Luna remarked, looking at Hercule Delacour where he was seated. She then frowned as a pair of new arrivals entered the Great Hall. " _The Wrackspurts are really infesting those two_ ," she commented.

Fleur saw who the newcomers were. Baum and Bagman. Baum looked harried and tired, while Bagman looked as ebullient and imbecilic as before. In French, to Luna, she said, " _I don't think Wrackspurts are infecting Bagman, whatever those are. I think that is Bludger-induced brain damage._ "

Luna laughed, and said, in English, "That's probably true."

Fleur shook her head, and as she returned to her bouillabaisse, she said to Cho, "That man Bagman is an imbecile. I saw his organisational skills, or lack thereof, firsthand at the Quidditch World Cup. I mean, if we are trying to be inconspicuous in a Muggle area, why would he dress up in his Quidditch robes? He looked like an oversized wasp!"

"You have no argument from me, Fleur," Cho said.

Luna nodded. "Common sense is an oxymoron."

Fleur tittered. "Indeed."

Fleur found herself enjoying the company of Cho Chang, her friend Marietta Edgecomb, and Luna Lovegood. While Cho and Marietta were more conventionally intelligent, Luna, though something of a fantasist, also had some surprisingly good insights and lateral thinking. And her command of French was excellent. The strange girl had confided in Fleur that her father frequently took her travelling, as he was a noted cryptozoologist, as well as editor and publisher of _The Quibbler_ , a tabloid magazine. Fleur, despite Luna's strangeness, actually liked the girl. Shortly after Luna finished off the pudding (Fleur declined to have some), they were soon engaged in an interesting discussion about the Sirius Black case when Dumbledore interrupted.

He introduced Baum and Bagman, and said that he was to explain how the Champions were to be chosen impartially. He soon asked for the action of a man by the name of Filch, a decrepit old Squib who, according to her father, was at best, an ornery and bitter old man who was supremely jealous of the students of Hogwarts for having magic when he didn't. Filch brought out a casket encrusted with jewels, and very old. The casket was placed on a table in front of the High Table. Dumbledore explained about the tasks, as well as the Champions. He finally concluded by saying, with theatre, pomp, and gravitas, "The champions will be chosen by an impartial selector…the Goblet of Fire."

With that, Dumbledore tapped on the chest with his wand three times. The lid opened slowly, as if about to unleash something deadly. In truth, what Dumbledore plucked out was surprisingly unimpressive on first glance: a large roughly-hewn wooden cup. Then again, few such items were filled to the very brim with blue-white flames that danced and capered in an eerie manner. Closing the casket, Dumbledore set the Goblet of Fire on top, using it as a makeshift plinth.

He then announced the arrangements. The Goblet would be placed in the Entrance Hall with an Age Line around it to prevent younger students from entering. Aspiring Champions had 24 hours to place their name within the Goblet, and those chosen would be announced tomorrow night. Dumbledore then pointed out that to enter the Tri-Wizard Tournament was not a decision to be taken lightly, as it bestowed a binding magical contract on the Champions chosen. They were meant to see the Tournament through to the very end.

Glancing over at the Gryffindor table, Fleur noted that the Weasley twins were plotting something. Fleur rolled her eyes. She knew that the two redheads were smarter than they seemed, her time with them at the Quidditch World Cup proved that. But bypassing an Age Line cast by one of the greatest Wizards of this century? It'd take a miracle. Plus, would they really wish to enter such a dangerous event?

She met Harry's eyes, and he smiled, and mouthed, _Good luck_. She mouthed, _Thank you_ back at him. Now, she needed to work up the resolve to enter. It was expected of the full delegation, but Fleur felt she needed to make sure she was ready…

* * *

Later that night, Barty Crouch Junior made his way over to the Goblet of Fire. Ostensibly, he was, as Moody, to check on the security procedures. In truth, he was about to undertake the first key step of the plan.

It was enjoyable, he reflected, to teach the students about the Unforgivables. He was even impressed with how Potter managed to throw off the Imperius, and he took a small perverse delight in freaking out Longbottom by demonstrating the Cruciatus Curse on a spider, though he played the part of a concerned teacher, and gave Longbottom a Herbology text, albeit one that might prove useful for the Second Task. It was on Mediterranean water plants, and it might sow the seeds for Potter to use Gillyweed for the Second Task.

Quietly, he cast a Confundus charm, the strongest he could manage, on the Goblet. Then, he placed a slip of paper with Potter's name on it. Through the Confundus charm, the Goblet would be fooled into thinking there were four schools, and not three.

The Goblet seemed to accept the slip of paper, and Barty allowed himself to sigh in relief. With any luck, come tomorrow night, the downfall of Harry Potter would begin…

 **CHAPTER 6 ANNOTATIONS:**

 **So, Fleur's at Hogwarts, and Barty has just set things up for Harry being entered.**

 **1\. Keep in mind that this Fleur is slightly different from the haughtier one of canon. She did laugh disdainfully in the original novel. However, her father, along with her experiences so far, have tempered it somewhat.**


	8. Chapter 7: The Champions Are Chosen

**CHAPTER 7:**

 **THE CHAMPIONS ARE CHOSEN**

The next morning, Fleur came into the Great Hall to have a late breakfast, only to encounter Harry and his friends, along with the Weasley twins and a dark-skinned friend of theirs called Lee Jordan. "I'm not sure this is going to work, you know," Hermione was saying. "I'm sure Dumbledore will have thought of this."

"Thought of what, precisely?" Fleur asked the group, raising an eyebrow.

"Well, we only needed to be a few months older to enter the Tournament," Fred said. "So, a drop of Ageing Potion each, and…"

"Dumbledore is more competent than he seems," Fleur remarked archly. "As Hermione has said, he has doubtless thought of such a possibility. The Tournament is dangerous, even if the lethality has been scaled back. Are you certain you want to risk that?"

"For a thousand Galleons? I'd French-kiss Snape!" George said.

"He means _rouler une pelle(_ _1)_ ," Hermione said to Fleur quietly.

" _I don't think I would kiss him like that even for a hundred thousand Galleons_ ," Fleur remarked in French. The man had greasy hair and a bad attitude that made many in her personal acquaintance seem nice by comparison.

She followed the Weasley twins and Lee Jordan, along with Harry and his friends. This ought to be amusing if nothing else. It was doubtful Dumbledore put any lethal or dangerous countermeasures around the Goblet of Fire. And supposedly the two were inveterate pranksters. It might be amusing to see them get a taste of their own medicine.

Sure enough, Fred and George, apparently after successfully stepping over the Age Line, were suddenly thrown back by a massive blast of magic, sending them skidding along the floor. Fleur, not to mention Harry and the others, began laughing when they saw Fred and George sporting long white beards. The Weasley twins soon showed their sense of humour, for they laughed when they realised what had happened.

"I did warn you," Dumbledore said, ambling out of the Great Hall with a twinkle to his eyes and a smile tinging his mouth. "I suggest you both go up to Madam Pomfrey. She is already tending to Miss Fawcett of Ravenclaw and Mr Summers of Hufflepuff, both of whom decided to age themselves up a little too. Though I must say, neither of their beards is anything like as fine as yours."

"I believe _Papa_ uses a most excellent wash for his own beard, should you choose to keep them," Fleur added.

The twins and Lee, roaring with laughter, made their way to the Hospital Wing. Harry and the others left to enter the Great Hall, but as Fleur made to enter, Dumbledore halted her, gently, and asked, in good French, " _Miss Delacour, when do you intend to enter?_ "

" _If I do, it will be with the others._ "

" _Oh? Madame Maxime seemed under the impression that you would enter, regardless. Nonetheless, I understand your doubt. Crouch and Bagman, along with Baum, have toned down the lethality, but the Tournament is still dangerous and arduous. And entering and being chosen as a Champion enters you into a binding magical contract. It is not a decision to be taken lightly. Should you be chosen to be Champion, then I wish you the very best of luck._ " He smiled warmly, and then let her go by.

She soon joined Harry and his friends at the Gryffindor table, bats flying around the ceiling (it was Halloween, after all). Once more, there were a number of dishes from France and other parts of Europe, and she chose her breakfast with care. As she ate, Hermione asked, "Where are your friends, Fleur?"

"Audrey and Marie woke up before me and had breakfast early. I wake up later on weekends. Today is a Saturday, _n'est-ce pas?_ " As Fleur sipped from a cup, she said, "Marie is doubtless looking at the Quidditch Pitch. Audrey will be at the library by now, knowing her. She wanted to see what books were available here, as the Hogwarts library does have some books in French."

"Seamus and Dean were telling me that Warrington from Slytherin's put his name in," Ron said. "And Cedric Diggory from Hufflepuff too." A cheer erupted from the Entrance Hall, and a black girl wearing Gryffindor robes came back in. Harry told Fleur that this was Angelina Johnson, a Chaser on the Gryffindor Quidditch team. Johnson came over, and triumphantly revealed she had successfully put her name in.

It was then that Fleur decided to try. Fleur knew she was skilled, and she was capable of facing anything the Tournament could throw at her. She had been considering it since last night, but only now, as Harry, Hermione, and Ron congratulated Angelina on nominating herself, did Fleur make the decision.

"Hermione, may I have some parchment and a pen, please?"

Hermione nodded, fishing the required items from the bag she kept with her at all times. As Fleur wrote down her name on the parchment, Harry asked, "Are you going to enter?"

" _Oui_. To test myself more than anything else," Fleur said. "The money is nothing to sneer at, and eternal glory would be nice, but I wish to test myself. _Papa_ tells me I should try novel experiences. In any case, there is no guarantee that I will become the Champion of Beauxbatons. It is up to the Goblet of Fire to judge that. But to be chosen as Champion…it would mean that I am better than many others claim me to be."

"Well, be careful, will you? I mean, if you do become Champion?" Harry asked.

" _Bien sûr, mon ami_ ," Fleur said, smiling. "After I enter, and breakfast is finished, we shall go for a little walk, yes?"

* * *

Their first stop on this walk was to meet Hagrid, the Keeper of the Grounds and Keys of Hogwarts. Harry, Ron and Hermione spoke highly of him, though Fleur thought him somewhat rustic. He also seemed to be trying to preen himself up somewhat, and unsuccessfully. Given how massive he was, she was willing to bet that he was half-Giant, like Madame Maxime.

After they left, Hermione and Ron decided to go elsewhere, Hermione understanding that Harry and Fleur may want a little privacy. So they wandered down to the edge of the Black Lake. As they did so, Harry said, "Are you ready to be the Champion?"

"I am sure that if I am not, the Goblet will not choose my name, Harry," she said. They halted near the shore. "Anyway, if I do get chosen, _Papa_ and my classmates are here to support me, not to mention you and your friends. I know you will support the Hogwarts Champion, but I know that you would care about my wellbeing. That is what matters. Even opponents can be friends."

Harry smiled. "I know. But there're times when they're very deadly enemies," he remarked, thinking to facing Draco in duelling classes, or the Slytherin Quidditch team. "What do you think the Tasks are, anyway?"

"They are changed from Tournament to Tournament, according to Audrey," Fleur said. "And there is a lot of secrecy around them in order to ensure no strategies can be thought of until the appropriate time." She looked at the Black Lake, and shivered slightly. "I do not wish for one to happen in there."

"Why? Are you afraid of water?"

"Veela are creatures of fire and wind. While our magic is not at a disadvantage in the water, it is nonetheless not our favourite environment. The Veela of legend were water spirits, true, but we are a separate people, confused with Rusalka and Sirens. It is not water itself, in any case. I love swimming in the ocean, open water. I have even used a Bubble-Head Charm to go diving. It is quite a pleasant experience, that. But this is an inland lake, and a murky one at that. And there are apparently a colony of Merpeople living down there, from what my father learned from Professor Dumbledore. Some Merpeople, particularly freshwater Merpeople, are rather aggressive to any interlopers(2)." She then turned to him. "But enough of that, _mon ami_. Are you excited to watch the Tournament?"

"Yeah. I mean, I wouldn't mind participating, but if it's as arduous as you say, then, well, I think for once I would like a quiet year, preferably without someone trying to kill me."

* * *

In the faculty room of Hogwarts, Barty Crouch Junior sneezed. He removed a grubby handkerchief from Moody's jacket and blew heartily into it. Then, as an afterthought, he handed the handkerchief over to Sybil Trelawney. "Can you divine anything from that?" he asked, as a sort of cruel joke.

She unfolded it and looked at the contents with a solemnity one normally didn't give towards mucus. Eventually, she said, "You are going to perish by the end of the school year, Professor Moody. Oh, and incidentally, you may wish to leave off the snuff. It looks like someone used this handkerchief as toilet paper(3)."

Crouch noticed an impish smile on Trelawney's face as groans of disgust echoed around the room. Who knew that the blotto bint had such a scatological sense of humour?

* * *

In Little Hangleton, in a decrepit old house, a small, wizened baby-like thing with an ophidian face sneezed as well. Voldemort cursed quietly to himself, hoping that this makeshift body wasn't going to catch some sort of cold…

* * *

"I would consider you paranoid, _mon ami_ , but given your letters and what _Papa_ has told me, it is not an unreasonable fear," Fleur said. "Not to mention that, as the Boy Who Lived, you have many enemies by default. The followers of Voldemort, especially those who did not renounce him."

"Yeah. Just once, though, I would like a normal year. Well, relatively normal. No madmen or monsters, just school. And this Tournament, of course. And I get to spend a year, more or less, with you. I mean, it'd be great if that's pretty much all the year ends up being. Quiet on the 'adventure for Harry Potter' front."

"I hope so too, _mon ami_." Their eyes were drawn to the Durmstrang ship, and a distinctive shape was coming their way, that of Viktor Krum.

He came upon them, and said, in his thickly-accented English, "So, you two are together?"

"Harry was showing me around Hogwarts," Fleur said, slightly annoyed that Krum had impinged on their alone time. However, better him than many others.

"Better circumstances than at the World Cup," Krum said, a grim look over his features. "Those drunken idiots. They spoiled the aftermath of a good game. We may have lost, but we gave it our all, and those Death Eaters…" Krum muttered a few expletives in what was probably Bulgarian. He then looked at Harry. "Miss Delacour told me before the game that you are a Seeker of some skill. Perhaps I can ask for a friendly game where our skills are put to the test, yes?"

"Sure. You were excellent at the World Cup."

"Thank you," Krum said, giving a rather grim but sincere smile.

"By the way, my friend, Ron, he's a fan. I don't suppose you could get him an autograph or something?"

Krum shrugged, somewhat resignedly. "As a favour to you, yes. Which one was Ron?"

"The redhead, about my age. Ronald Weasley?"

"Very well. I thought there may be fans here, so I brought a supply of photos to sign. I will bring the autograph to the Gryffindor table tonight. Though that Malfoy boy did not speak highly of you or Weasley, or that girl, Her-my-owe-ninny."

"Hermione," Harry corrected, more out of reflex. "She told me once it's a name from Shakespeare. Her mother loves Shakespeare."

"Ah. I see. I saw her before at the World Cup." Viktor heard someone call for him from the Durmstrang ship, and scowled. "Excuse me, I must go. It was good to speak with you both. If you are chosen to be the Champion, Miss Delacour, then I look forward to testing myself against you. Goodbye." And with that, he walked off.

* * *

The rest of the day, Harry and Fleur spent touring Hogwarts. Harry felt himself growing more and more comfortable in Fleur's company. He was warmed by her presence in a manner more than mundane temperature. The major blips were when she encountered Peeves for the first time, as well as when they encountered Malfoy briefly. However, he reined in his tongue, only saying a couple of insults. This was partly because Fleur had already bitchslapped Malfoy for his idiocy before, and partly because Malfoy was still stinging over the 'Incredible Bouncing Ferret' act Moody put him through earlier in the year. Namely, Moody transfiguring Malfoy into a ferret, then using spells to bounce him on the floor painfully. A well-overdue punishment, in Harry's view.

Soon, dinner came around, and Harry and Fleur had to go and freshen up in their respective dormitories (Harry in Gryffindor Tower, and Fleur in the Beauxbatons carriage), before they went down to dinner. Harry smiled as he tucked in, Fleur now back at the Ravenclaw table with her peers. Fred and George were back, and without any beards too. Ron was grinning at Harry, as Krum had presented him with an autographed photo. "Thanks, Harry! You're the best!" Ron said.

"You're welcome, Ron, though Krum's the one you should be thanking," Harry said as he sat down.

"Oh, he did, profusely," Hermione said with a chuckle. "Poor Krum was embarrassed."

"I still think he has that head cold," Ron said rather defensively.

"He sounded fine earlier," Harry pointed out. He found his eyes drawn to the Goblet of Fire, now positioned just in front of Dumbledore's place at the Head Table. The excitement did quell his appetite a little, as the Champions were soon to be chosen. Baum and Bagman were at the Head Table, as were Karkaroff and Maxime. He noticed Hagrid giving Maxime adoring looks. Well, she was one of the biggest women Harry had ever seen. No wonder Hagrid was smitten. Hercule Delacour met Harry's eyes, and smiled.

Once the dinner was over, Dumbledore and his fellow Headmasters stood. He made the announcement that the Goblet had only another minute before it made its decision, and that he wanted the Champions to come up to the top of the Great Hall, walk alongside the Head Table, and then go into the room behind the table. He then extinguished the candles floating in the air. Only the blue flames of the Goblet illuminated the Great Hall in eerie cyan light.

Suddenly, the flames turned red, sparks wafting out. A brief burst of fire, and then, a charred piece of parchment fluttered out, which Dumbledore caught. "The Champion for Durmstrang will be Viktor Krum!" he announced.

"No surprises there!" Ron cheered as applause and shouts filled the Great Hall. Krum slouched up to the Head Table, before making his way through the door.

"Bravo, Viktor!" Karkaroff hollered. "Knew you had it in you!"

That sounded embarrassing, Harry thought. Soon, the next Champion was announced. "The Champion for Beauxbatons is Fleur Delacour!" Dumbledore announced.

Fleur stood, and when a couple of her fellow students began to sob, she gently consoled them, gently touching their shoulders even as deafening applause swept the Great Hall. Harry clapped loudly, and as Fleur made her way, she looked over at Harry, Ron, and Hermione. Harry grinned and gave her a thumbs-up with both hands. Hermione and Ron followed his lead, and thus heartened, Fleur made her way to the other room with a smile.

Once more, the Goblet flared up, and vomited out a charred scrap of parchment. The announcement that Cedric Diggory would be the Champion for Hogwarts provoked a tsunami of applause, drowning Ron's groan of disapproval. Cedric got to his feet, as did every other Hufflepuff, and amidst tumultuous applause, he made his way to the room where the other Champions were waiting, grinning.

After some time, the applause died down enough for Dumbledore to begin a final speech. "Excellent! Well, we now have our three Champions. I am sure I can count upon all of you, including the remaining students from Beauxbatons and Durmstrang, to give your Champions every ounce of support you can muster. By cheering your Champion on, you will contribute in a very real…" He stopped, distracted, because something very strange was happening.

The fire in the Goblet had turned red again. And yet another piece of parchment was belched out, a piece Dumbledore caught.

Harry suddenly had a very bad feeling about this. He had the feeling of being a condemned man standing on the gallows, the trapdoor beneath his feet, the rope around his neck, knowing any moment, by a verbal command, he would drop into perdition.

And with two words, spoken in a disbelieving voice, Dumbledore effectively opened the gallows trapdoor.

" _Harry Potter._ "

 **CHAPTER 7 ANNOTATIONS:**

 **And there you have it. You knew this was coming. Sorry about the wait. I thought I'd post this one on Valentine's Day, given the nice bit of Harry and Fleur. And like many a Valentine's Day, it may just end in heartbreak…or at least an extremely embarrassing situation…**

 **Review-answering time!** **Stormbow** **: You've got a fair point. For all of his and his master's love of convoluted plans, Barty was one of the more competent Death Eaters, and probably one of the closest to being a true Slytherin, with actual cunning and intelligence.**

 **Kane Richards** **: True enough, but the friction will actually mostly be because they are both Champions, rather than believing Harry managed to surpass the Age Line.**

 **lokarryn** **: Of course. And dayum, you did a fine job of referencing Greek Mythology…**

 **Guest** **: Yes, Harry and Fleur will be together at the Yule Ball. That's a given for this story. Cho, meanwhile, will be with Cedric, as in canon.**

 **Ophiuchus** **: Sorry, bit of a bad habit, I'm afraid.**

 **YuukiAsuna-Chan** **: True enough, but I don't feel comfortable about writing about that unless they're over a certain age, maybe 16 or 17. Harry is 14 by this time, so the most he's going to be doing with Fleur during this fic is making out. Glad you enjoyed this fic so far, though.**

 **1\. I'm sure this is the right term in French for 'French kissing'. I could be wrong…**

 **2\. I decided that I would pay some lip service to the fanon that a Veela is at a distinct disadvantage underwater, and that they are hated by merpeople, while saying that, for this story, it's more or less garbage.**

 **3\. There's an episode of** ** _QI_** **,** ** _Kit and Kaboodle_** **, where the panel is given snuff to snort, and when Alan Davies blows his nose afterwards, the audience reacts with disgust upon seeing the contents of his handkerchief. Alan mocks the audience for reacting like he 'shat in his hanky'. It's quite funny, actually, especially given what Alan does after snorting some snuff, and what Ross Noble does to his own tin. "I CAN'T SEE!"**


	9. Chapter 8: The Die is Cast

**CHAPTER 8:**

 **THE DIE IS CAST  
**

When he saw the fourth name being spat out, Hercule Delacour already knew something was up, even before he heard Dumbledore announce the name on it, that of Harry Potter. Any thought of it being an impossibility went out the window when it had happened. It had clearly happened, what needed to be figured out was how, and perhaps most importantly, why.

As Harry was pushed into getting to his feet, Hercule could hear Madame Maxime muttering, in shocked and annoyed French, " _How can there be a fourth Champion? And from Hogwarts?_ "

" _It has happened, Madame Maxime_ ," Hercule said. " _Rest assured, I'll get to the bottom of it. But observe Dumbledore and the Potter boy._ "

" _They're faking surprise_ ," Maxime retorted.

" _They are faking it well, if they are faking it at all. Madame, do not think that I am excluding them as suspects, only that they are less of a priority. And keep in mind that, despite that imbecile Bagman's assurances, it is a deadly dangerous tournament, one that could be fatal even to those old enough to handle it._ " Hercule looked over at Harry as he began walking towards the door like a condemned man. " _And given how famous Potter is in our world, it may be an assassination by proxy. Physically…or psychologically. Madame…if I can get Potter to consent to a Veritaserum questioning, would that satisfy you?_ "

She blinked, before she nodded. " _Even so, this detracts from Fleur's glory._ "

" _Of course it does! I am angry at whoever did this because they have turned this theoretically dignified competition into a farce, and detracted from my daughter's glory! Not only that, but they have ensnared in this contest a boy who detests the fame that has grown around his name like an untended garden!_ " Hercule calmed himself with an effort. As Baum, Dumbledore and Karkaroff came over, Hercule saw that Bagman was about to follow Harry, and with a scowl, Hercule said, " _I'll go and talk to Harry and Fleur, as well as the others. Madame Maxime, you have my word that I will do my utmost to find the culprit or culprits, whoever they are._ "

* * *

Hercule came in just as that perpetually-concussed fool Bagman began announcing Harry as the fourth Champion. Fleur seemed about to make a snide remark when she met her father's stormy gaze. In French, she asked, " _Is this a joke, Papa?_ "

" _If it is a joke, it's not a very funny one, Fleur_ ," Hercule said with a scowl. Out loud, in English, he said to the others, "It seems that someone has entered Harry Potter illegally into the Tri-Wizard Tournament. A parchment with his name on it came out of the Goblet of Fire." He glared at Bagman, who was both bemused and beaming. The fool was seeing this as an opportunity!

"But evidently, there has been a mistake!" Fleur protested. "He cannot compete. He is too young!"

"Well, the age restriction was only really imposed this time as an extra safety measure," Bagman pondered.

"Clearly it was not enough!" Hercule snapped. "Someone put Mr Potter's name into the Goblet of Fire! He must be removed forthwith!"

"It's against the rules, I'm afraid," Bagman said, almost apologetically. There was no actual smugness to his tone, but something about his false contrition made Hercule want to hex the man so thoroughly, he would empty his bowels in those damned robes of his! "I don't think there is any ducking out allowed at this stage…"

Hercule snarled angrily at Bagman, before looking at Harry. "Harry…would you be willing to swear that you did not enter the Tri-Wizard Tournament or ask anyone else to enter you under Veritaserum?"

Harry didn't hesitate to nod. While this mollified the three normal Champions a little (Fleur especially), it didn't mollify Karkaroff, who had just entered, along with Dumbledore, Maxime, Baum, McGonagall and Snape. As McGonagall closed the door to the Great Hall, Karkaroff snarled, "What is the meaning of this?!"

"I would like to know as well," Maxime remarked, keeping her temper in check.

"I was under the impression, Dumbledore, that your Age Line would have kept younger contestants out," Karkaroff continued, a vicious cold smile in place. "Otherwise, we would have brought a wider range of candidates."

"The Age Line itself was sound," Hercule said. "I inspected it myself earlier. And the Goblet itself should have rejected the name of a younger student in any case, let alone one from the same school as a legally-chosen Champion. Is that not right, Madam Baum?"

Baum nodded, though Hercule noted that she looked somewhat frayed and frazzled. Not overtly so, but the pressures of her position were getting to her. Or something else. "But the rules are quite clear. As Mr Potter's name has come out of the Goblet of Fire, he has to compete, lest he forfeit his magic. And before you protest, either of you, your Champions are already bound to compete, lest they forfeit their own magic. And resubmitting names is out of the question. The Goblet of Fire has been extinguished, and it won't reignite until the next Tournament. It follows its own schedule, not yours."

"But Mr Potter was chosen illegally," Hercule said. "Are there no rules or provisions to remedy that?"

Baum met his eyes, and said, "None whatsoever."

"We shall see. I will need a complete compendium of rules and laws about the Tri-Wizard Tournament," Hercule said.

"You'll need more than that," came the voice of Mad-Eye Moody. As the grizzled Auror limped in, he said, "It's all too-convenient, isn't it, Hercule? That Potter is put into a tournament that he is bound to compete in."

"A dangerous contest, to be sure. You suspect someone is trying to assassinate his person, or his character?"

"I'd put money on the former," Moody said. "And they'd have to be a powerful wizard or witch indeed to bamboozle a powerful magical artifact like the Goblet of Fire…"

Hercule realised what he was getting at. "An overpowered Confundus Charm…used to make the Goblet forget that there are only three schools competing! They must have put Potter's name under a fourth school! _Sacre bleu!_ "

"Don't you think this theory is somewhat farfetched?" Karkaroff asked coldly. "It could be that Potter asked someone to put his name in anyway, and the damned Goblet just spat it out. Or else one of the Hogwarts staff could have done so to give Hogwarts an edge."

"Mr Potter has agreed that he will swear under Veritaserum that neither he did so, nor did he ask anyone to do so," Hercule said. "Would that satisfy you, as far as he is concerned?"

"I have my own personal stock," Snape said, looking at Karkaroff. Hercule nodded inwardly when he saw Karkaroff backing down. The two were both in the Death Eaters, though whether they even qualified as comrades was doubtful.

"And I can contact Madam Bones in the DMLE, if necessary," Baum said.

"Well, if that's over and done with, let's get cracking on, shall we?" Bagman asked with that stupid damned grin of his. "Baum, do you mind giving the instructions for the First Task?"

Baum blinked, before nodding. "Yes…the instructions." As she moved over to the four Champions, Hercule noticed that she seemed even more worn down than he realised. Either the stress of her work was proving to be too much, or else there was another factor. After a sigh, she said to the Champions, "The First Task is designed to test your daring. To that effect, we are not telling you what it entails. After all, courage in the face of the unknown is an important characteristic, whether you have magic or not." She glared briefly at Karkaroff and Snape…and was Hercule imagining things, or did her gaze briefly encompass Moody, of all people? Continuing, she said, "The First Task will take place on November 24th, three and a half weeks from now, in front of your fellow students and a panel of judges. Keep in mind that you are not allowed to seek help of any kind from their teachers in order to complete the Tasks. And the First Task will see you armed only with your wands. When the First Task is over, you will be given information about the Second Task. Owing to the demanding nature of the Tournament, you will be exempt from end of year exams."

As Baum pinched the bridge of her nose, clearly tired, Dumbledore asked, "Would you like to stay at Hogwarts tonight?"

"Sadly, no," Baum said. "Mr Weasley is a competent assistant, but as enthusiastic and skilled as he is, I need to get back to keep things running, especially with this balls-up."

As she walked out, Bagman chuckled. "She doesn't mince words, does she?"

The glares he received from the others present put Hercule in mind that the general consensus was that it was Bagman who should be minced. Soon, Karkaroff left, Krum in tow. However, Madame Maxime and Fleur were talking to Harry…

* * *

"If you are willing to testify under Veritaserum that you did not do this," Maxime said to Harry, who felt like a criminal in the dock before a very imposing judge about to pass sentence, "I will give you the benefit of the doubt, especially as Fleur speaks highly of your character. But the fact remains that somebody perpetrated this outrage."

"I know. Don't get me wrong, I would have loved to have participated. But not for the gold or for the glory," Harry said. "I would have done it just to see if I could do it. And even then, not like this…" He put his face in his hands. "Fleur, I'm so sorry. I really am."

"Harry…I know it is not your fault, _mon ami_ ," Fleur said quietly. "You are more honourable than this, and I know _Papa_ will track down those responsible. But you must realise, now, we are rivals." She looked over at Cedric, who was standing not far away. "What of you? Do you believe he entered this contest willingly?"

"Not if he's willing to testify under Veritaserum," Cedric said crossing his arms. "Even so, a lot of people are going to believe you fooled the Goblet, Harry. I'll talk to the other Badgers, tell them you're fine with saying you didn't do it under Veritaserum. You know Malfoy and his lot are going to make a lot out of this, though, don't you?"

Harry scowled when he thought about it. He suppressed an expletive with an effort. "Do you think Professor Moody and Mr Delacour's right, though?" he asked, changing the subject.

"Well, Dad said that Moody's paranoid as anything, really," Cedric said. "But he also said that, for all that, Mad-Eye's also got a keen mind. And Mr Delacour seems like he has his head screwed on. Besides, it's one of the only theories that make sense. I mean, why go to all that trouble just to enter you by proxy? I don't think Dumbledore or McGonagall's like that, and Snape'd sooner enter one of the Slytherins." Thankfully, the Potions Master had left the room by that point, arguing quietly with McGonagall.

Harry nodded, before turning to the imposing Madame Maxime. "Madame Maxime, I am truly sorry for this."

" _Pas de quoi_ ," Maxime said. "But I will be filing a complaint to your Ministry, if only because further precautions should have been made to prevent an outrage like this!" She muttered something clearly uncomplimentary in French, before she said to Fleur something that probably meant 'Come along, Fleur'.

" _Bonne nuit_ , Harry, Cedric," Fleur said, before she allowed herself to be led away.

After a moment's pause, Cedric remarked, "You're very lucky to have gotten her, you know." On Harry's look, he said, "Fleur was talking about you to me before you came in. Like I said, lucky. Not many people get a part-Veela girlfriend, or at least a serious one. Dad's full of horror stories where things have gone wrong where that's concerned."

"I met her on the Knight Bus last year," Harry said. "It wasn't exactly love at first sight."

"It rarely is," Cedric said.

Dumbledore came over, and said, "Harry, Cedric, I suggest you head to bed. I'm sure both Gryffindor and Hufflepuff will be waiting to celebrate with you, and it would be a shame to deprive them of the opportunity to make a lot of mess and noise."

As Harry passed, he asked Dumbledore, "You know they're going to demand to know how I got entered, right?"

"Just tell the truth, my boy. And tell them you're willing to testify under Veritaserum. Some sceptics will remain, but many will believe you on that much."

* * *

Harry and Cedric soon went their respective ways again. Harry could only hope that he could persuade Hufflepuff that Harry had been conscripted unwillingly into the Tournament. Still, he shuffled his way back to Gryffindor Tower, and found the Fat Lady gossiping with a witch from one of the portraits in the room off the Great Hall.

As it turned out, half of Gryffindor wanted to congratulate him, and wanted to know how he did it. It took him far too long to extricate himself from that mess, before heading back to the dorms, where Ron was waiting, lying on his bed. After a moment, Ron said, in a rather strained tone, "Congratulations."

Harry scowled. "On what? Being forced into this? Ron, I will testify under Veritaserum that I didn't put my name in there, nor did I ask anyone to do so for me."

Ron sat up, frowning. "You what? You serious?"

"Deadly so," Harry scowled, tearing the Gryffindor banner away from him where Lee Jordan had draped it over him like a cloak. "Veritaserum, and whatever else I can do to prove I didn't do it. But now, they say I've got to compete, or lose my magic. Mr Delacour's on the warpath." He stormed over to his bed, and flopped onto it, emitting a strangled noise of annoyance. "I don't want to be in this!" he snarled quietly.

Ron looked at him, almost in disbelief. Harry got the feeling that Ron had all but convinced himself that Harry had somehow entered himself, and had just had that notion disabused. "But, blimey Harry, a thousand Galleons?"

"Ron…I don't want a thousand Galleons, not if they come with a bloody headache like this! You know what Draco's going to do?"

Ron had the reputation of being a bit thick, but he could see what was coming with that remark. "Oh, bloody hell," he muttered.

"Exactly. Ron, I didn't enter this. You can even be there when I drink that Veritaserum stuff. But I'm stuck doing it now, or I lose my magic. A thousand Galleons and eternal glory isn't worth that." With a sigh, he looked at the ceiling. "I just wanted a quiet year, this bloody Tournament notwithstanding. Is that too much to ask?"

Ron shrugged. "I don't think that's gonna happen." After a while, he deflated. "Bloody hell, and here I was thinking you found a way."

"Everyone back in the common room thinks that," Harry scoffed, somewhat petulantly. "I'll have to talk to Fred and George later, tell them otherwise. I was worried I was going to anger Fleur."

Ron laughed, albeit nervously. "And you've gotta face your girlfriend in this Tournament, Harry! Man, I don't envy you!"

Harry chuckled nervously in his own turn. This, he reflected, was NOT what he wanted or needed. Especially with having to face Fleur. Even so, he couldn't help but shake the worry Moody and Hercule had planted in his mind. If there was someone who wanted him dead more than anyone else, it'd be Voldemort. And while it seemed like a long shot for Voldemort to have any involvement in this farce, he still couldn't shake that feeling, nagging at him…

 **CHAPTER 8 ANNOTATIONS:**

 **And there you have it. The aftermath of Harry being selected. Yes, Ron isn't as jealous as he is in canon, but this time, Harry gets in with the whole Veritaserum thing as soon as he can, while in canon, he doesn't. Ron's still jealous, but the fact that Harry said he would willingly testify under Veritaserum helped Ron think twice (and considering at times, he doesn't think once outside of playing chess, that's an achievement). Adding the fact that Harry may lose his magic also helps it, so there'll be less jealous Ron, and certainly less friction with the Hufflepuffs. It doesn't mean there won't be friction, only that there will be less. And Ron will give Harry the benefit of the doubt. Of course, there's still Rita Skeeter to deal with before long…**

 **Of course, there still will be tensions between Harry and Fleur, if only because they're now rivals in the competition. And Krum will have his mind, if not actually poisoned, then tainted a little by Karkaroff. Krum is smart enough to draw his own conclusions, but he will still be somewhat prejudiced against Hogwarts.**

 **The next chapter will probably be some time coming, but I thought you guys would appreciate a new one now, especially as the last one ended on a cliffhanger.**

 **Review-answering time! Well, only one, really.** **spectre4hire** **: Well, Trelawney is like a broken clock: right maybe twice a day. I actually added that on a whim, as well as to inject a little humour into the story. And Harry is a bit more observant because of what happened in** ** _In Spite of Obstinate Men_** **.**

 **No numbered annotations this time.**


	10. Chapter 9: An Infestation of Suspects

**CHAPTER 9:**

 **AN INFESTATION OF SUSPECTS**

The blizzard of French expletives Hercule Delacour uttered after perusing the rulebook of the Tri-Wizard Tournament the next morning was impressive for many reasons. The sheer quantity of expletives, the quality (ranging from merely scatological and sexual crudities to curses that would end with bowels exploding out through the navel), and the volume at which he shouted them, before finally hurling the rulebook into a corner of Dumbledore's office with a gesture that was as furious as it was contemptuous.

"Hercule, there is little need for such language," Dumbledore chided gently. Fawkes the Phoenix agreed with a trill that was meant to be soothing. But it did little to quell Hercule's anger, fuelled partly as it was by a lack of sleep as it was by righteous fury.

" _Au contraire_ , Professor, there is substantial need! Have you seen that? There is no way out for Harry Potter! Not only that, but the few loopholes he could have used were closed by Madam Baum herself, in consultation with Bagman!" Hercule snarled. "It seems all too convenient that the loopholes Harry could have used to break the contract have been closed! And all in the past couple of months!" Hercule ran a hand through his beard, pensively. "I am beginning to think Moody is onto something with his idea that this whole Tournament is an elaborate trap for Potter, though why the Tournament, I have no idea. I mean, unless this is meant to try and wear him down psychologically, the risk of him dying in this Tournament, while substantial, is nonetheless a small one. And Riddle, as you and I both know, would want to murder Potter himself! So, assuming Riddle or one of his lackeys is behind this farce, why have they done this?"

Dumbledore, calmly, but no less forcefully, said, "I have a disturbing possibility. I spoke to Severus last night, and the Dark Mark on his arm is beginning to darken once more. We discussed whether this is part of some plot. Given that the Dark Mark was deliberately cast over the Quidditch World Cup during the riot, and by someone not in league with the rioters, it may be so, though this is still only a possibility. For all I know, Bagman just had some foolish notion that he won't own up to. He is, bluntly, an imbecile, but money is more of his concern than allegiance to Riddle."

"I am sensing a 'but' here," Delacour said, calming a little, and seating himself across from Dumbledore.

"Not so much a 'but' as much as a concern. If Riddle does have a new body to house his soul, then it will be a temporary thing, a homunculus of some kind, a crude thing that would barely sustain his full power. There are rituals that can grant him a new body, one of which requires his adversary to be put through trials for several months(1). With modifications, it can grant him a body that will match, if not exceed, his powers at his peak, even with our destruction of the Horcruxes. One powerful addition to the ritual would be blood from a mortal enemy. Namely, Harry. It would allow him to bypass Lily's protective ritual, though the Blood Wards on the Dursley home would still work."

"You think this may be why Potter was entered?"

"It's one theory. As you and many other detectives say, it is a mistake to get tied down to a single theory, especially before one is in command of all the facts."

"Not to mention a plethora of suspects. Even if we exclude the student body, which we can't do quite yet, it leaves a number of people with either a grudge against Harry, or else Imperiused into putting his name into the Goblet."

"Why not exclude the student body?"

"Children of Death Eaters in particular may have done this as part of a petty plot to get revenge. They would want to hope to see Potter fall in a Tournament meant for older students. They would have had to get the cooperation of a teacher who could fool the Age Line and the Goblet, or else use the Imperius. That is, admittedly, a weak theory, and it would be more productive to concentrate on the faculty, as well as those organising the Tri-Wizard Tournament. I feel that investigating Bagman and Baum are good ideas, if only because of their suspiciously recent amendments to the rules."

"I hardly think Baum would be a Death Eater."

"I do not think so either, but there is still the Imperius, for which I will discreetly test her for. And Bagman, from what I have heard, is in trouble with the Goblins for substantial unpaid loans. Money would certainly be a spur to do something like this. And remember, during Riddle's last reign of terror, Bagman had passed along information to the Death Eaters. Inadvertently or not, we still do not know. Money has motivated many a man to do repugnant deeds. Especially if they are desperate for money to avoid trouble. Of course, they are far from the only suspects." Hercule frowned. "Karkaroff, for example. While he may not wish for Riddle to return, he could have put Potter into the Tournament to try and humiliate or kill the Boy Who Lived, or else show that Viktor Krum is the superior of Potter. That performance last night may have been an elaborate double bluff. And there is one other thing."

"And that is?" Dumbledore asked.

"Your old friend, Alastor Moody. There is something about him that seems…off somehow. I cannot think of it for the life of me. I have had contact with the man before, and I know of his paranoia. But there is something going on. Some sort of instinct is telling me something about the man, but what, I cannot tell."

"Alastor is indeed an old friend," Dumbledore said. "And I don't think it does any good to throw around accusations without evidence."

"He was the first to supply the theory that someone had actively tampered with the Goblet. I had yet to think about that specific possibility: all I did know was that someone had done so. But he already supposed that a powerful wizard had bamboozled it."

"It was you who said it was a Confundus, though Alastor seemed to be thinking along the same lines," Dumbledore pointed out.

"True. But you told me he showed your students the Unforgivable Curses. And at a young age. Not only that, but when I spoke to him, he mentioned that he used the Cruciatus in front of Neville Longbottom! For an extended period! Even Moody should not be so cruel as to use that curse in front of a child who has every reason to fear it, or at least should not do so for long! Not to mention using the Imperius on the children. It is good to teach them to try to resist it, yes, but I am not convinced Moody would be the best teacher to do that."

"I reprimanded Alastor for what he did to Mr Longbottom. While the class needed to be shown what the Cruciatus Curse did, I do agree it should not have been for so long. Mr Longbottom sees the result of what the Lestranges and Barty Crouch Junior did to his parents every time he visits them at St Mungo's." Dumbledore pinched the bridge of his nose. "In any case, I owled Sirius Black. He's coming to Hogwarts to comfort Harry, and to 'chew me out', as I believe the vernacular puts it, along with Remus Lupin."

"You thought that the measures were adequate. So did I," Hercule said. "I should have thought that Riddle or one of his supporters would have considered this an opportunity."

"I am the one fully to blame, Hercule. I was the one who conceived of the measures, I should have taken more precautions. Something Sirius will no doubt take great pleasure in pointing out. If anything, this should act as a spur to accelerate our own plans. The Horcruxes must be eliminated."

* * *

Like her father, Fleur had spent the previous night without sleep, and as naturally beautiful as Veela and their part-human progeny were, sleepless nights did little for their looks. So it was a distinctively frazzled Fleur who met with Madame Maxime the next morning in a private office inside the expanded space of the Beauxbatons carriage.

" _Your father has sent word to me_ ," Maxime said. " _There are no provisions in the rules that would have allowed Mr Potter to withdraw from this Tournament. Suspiciously, there have been a number of amendments made by Baum and Bagman, but they asked that we keep silent on that particular matter until he and Dumbledore confront them. That being said, I have sent a formal protest to Baum's office, and to Cornelius Fudge, as well as the British DMLE._ "

" _Not that it'll do any good, Madame Maxime_ ," Fleur said, rubbing blearily at her eyes. " _What was it that Julius Caesar said?_ Alea jacta est. _The die is cast. Someone put Harry's name into that Goblet. No doubt the British will see it as an opportunity rather than a disaster. The Boy Who Lived, participating in the Tri-Wizard Tournament._ "

" _True. I believe him if he's willing to go so far as to testify under the influence of Veritaserum. But even so, the press both here and back home will have a field day. And I heard many of the reporters working for_ The Daily Prophet _are particularly vicious. Beware if one answering to Rita Skeeter begins nosing around. I heard that she and Bagman are on friendly terms, and she's one of the most vicious reporters for the_ Prophet _. And she has a suspiciously excellent instinct for ferreting out secrets._ "

Fleur suppressed a curse with an effort. She remembered, a year ago, her mother reading that paper, and declaring it to be sensationalist garbage. She'd also read the articles about her father and his role in exonerating Sirius Black. " _And given that my relationship with Harry Potter is, while not that public, not exactly a secret…_ "

" _That's one problem, yes. A lot of young witches are smitten with him, and I'd bet that Skeeter woman would portray you as the girl who stole his heart with your Veela allure_ ," Maxime said with a scowl. " _They are less tolerant of those who are only part-human here. You'll have to be prepared for that. At the very least, expect Howlers once it comes out._ "

Fleur scowled. " _They'll claim I don't really love him, that I have merely ensnared him with lust. He is not like that, Madame Maxime! The British may have hyped him up beyond all belief with this 'Boy Who Lived' nonsense, but his character is far better than I could have hoped! He is a boy who hasn't had a proper childhood until he came to Hogwarts! I'm not sure it could be called normal, even by the standards of our world, even now._ "

Maxime looked at Fleur solemnly, before saying, " _You and I have part-human heritage. We have not had normal childhoods either. Like Mr Potter, we also have expectations and prejudices to deal with. Fleur, I don't mind if you keep seeing him, despite this development. He is good for you, and vice versa. You have been happier since he came into your life. But also remember that in this Tournament, he is your enemy, your rival. I know it will be hard to juggle those feelings, but remember to not hesitate when you need to compete. You are in this to win the Tri-Wizard Tournament, and to win glory for yourself and Beauxbatons. Hogwarts now has two Champions, even if one of them doesn't want to be involved, and that means you will have to work all the harder._ "

Fleur knew this. She didn't like it, but she knew it. " _I understand, Madame Maxime._ "

" _Good. Now, go to him. He probably needs as much support after last night's events as you do, Fleur. And if what that old paranoiac Moody suggested is true, then someone's deliberately put him into danger for reasons other than giving Hogwarts a second shot at glory._ "

Fleur nodded, before leaving to make herself more presentable. She was now, like it or not, the most prominent representative of Beauxbatons, being its Champion for the Tournament. She needed to make sure she looked her best.

But even as she did so, disquiet continued to dog her steps. A slender but noticeable wedge had been driven between her and Harry. Not enough to hinder their relationship, true, but even so, it was sure to cause friction. She cursed, silently, whoever put Harry's name into the Goblet of Fire. If she found out who did it, they were going to end up with a Veela-produced fireball in a very intimate place indeed…

 **CHAPTER 9 ANNOTATIONS:**

 **Just a bit of a transition chapter showing some of the fallout of the selection from the French point of view. We'll get back to Harry soon.**

 **Review-answering time!** **Aetemus** **: Fleur is torn between what is expected of her in the Tournament, and what will happen to Harry.**

 **Lord-Hadrian-Of-Darkness** **: I hope this chapter helped satisfy your want for such insight into Fleur's feelings on the matter. And yes, she will kiss him in the next chapter.**

 **1\. As mentioned in Chapter 5, this ritual is from** ** _A Marauder's Plan_** **.**


	11. Chapter 10: Revelation and Declaration

**CHAPTER 10:**

 **REVELATION AND DECLARATION**

Sirius Black, to put it mildly, was angry. Despite assurances from Dumbledore about Harry's safety, his godson was now locked into a magical contract, and would have to participate in the Tri-Wizard Tournament. It was only thanks to Remus that his anger had gone from Fiendfyre levels to merely simmering cauldron levels. Nonetheless, there was a distinctly aggressive sound to his steps as he approached the Great Hall.

He remembered once, when running away from home (he did that a few times before he went to Hogwarts, and this was before he went to Hogwarts), peering through the window of a Muggle household at a television. He remembered seeing the opening of some TV show called _The Prisoner_ , where a man with intense eyes stormed down a corridor and flung open the doors. He even thought he heard a thunderclap when that happened. He thought he would emulate that, and so, did so.

McGonagall hurried over. "Mr Black! Please calm yourself!"

"This _is_ calm," Sirius replied. "Where's Dumbledore?"

"In his office with Monsieur Delacour," the Deputy Headmistress said. "Sirius, please calm yourself! You're disturbing the students!"

In a low whisper, Sirius said, his eyes boring into McGonagall's own, "My godson has just been shanghaied into this bloody Tournament. I am _very_ angry, and trying to remain as calm and civil as possible, because the last time I got this angry, I ended up in Azkaban, accused of mass-murder and betraying my friends. But Harry has been thrown into what could be a life or death situation, and from what Dumbledore has told me, he has no way out, save to participate! Tell me, is there any sane reason why I shouldn't be angry and worried for the life of my godson?"

"We all are," McGonagall said. "Amelia Bones is sending over an Auror with Veritaserum and antidote. Harry's going to make a declaration later today that he did not enter the Tournament, or ask someone to enter his name. At the very least, it will stop the other two schools from complaining, and hopefully, prevent the school from turning on him. It was Hercule Delacour who suggested Veritaserum, and Harry has agreed. Harry's concern is trying not to alienate his friends. Not just his friends at Hogwarts, but also Fleur Delacour, who, incidentally, is now one of the Champions."

Harry didn't seem to be present at breakfast. He probably had it early and left to avoid the attention. Eventually, Sirius said, "All right. I need to see Dumbledore. Remus, have you still got it?"

Remus nodded. "The Marauder's Map. But I don't know why."

"Call it a gut instinct."

"The last time we followed one of those, Sirius, we ended up getting hexed by irate girls for our troubles," Remus grumbled.

"And you deserved every one of them," McGonagall said archly. "Peeking in on girls changing, indeed!"

Sirius gave a grin at that. Ah, good times…

* * *

Harry, as it turned out, had gone to the Beauxbatons carriage. A few of the students present glared at him. Others, especially Marie and Audrey, looked at him sympathetically. In fact, the two came over. Audrey spoke, in hesitant and halting English, "Madame Maxime told us you would say you did not do this under Veritaserum. We believe you. But some of the others…" She waved a hand at one lot glaring at Harry.

"It's okay. I'm sorry I embarrassed Beauxbatons," Harry said. "I just came to talk to Fleur and Madame Maxime."

"I am here, Harry Potter," the voice of Madame Maxime said, the massive woman emerging from the carriage. "You apologised already last night to Fleur and myself. Another apology is not necessary. I am still furious about this situation, but you are not the subject of my anger."

"Even so, being friends with one of your students means that I'm worried about the effect this is having on Beauxbatons in general, and Fleur in particular," Harry said.

"Fleur is not fragile, though your chivalry does you credit. But please remember, Harry Potter, that you are now an opponent against her in the Tournament. I will not object to your continuing relationship, as long as it does nothing to interfere with the Tournament."

Harry nodded. "Is she okay?"

"She is finishing getting ready for the day. She has had a somewhat fraught night, as you can imagine," Maxime said. "It is good that she is friends with you. Her heritage…means many boys who approach her are infatuated. They do not want to be friends in the normal sense. I understand how that feels, how heritage can prevent one from friendship, which is one of the reasons I will not object to your relationship."

" _Merci beaucoup_ , Madame Maxime," Harry said. And then, Fleur alighted from the carriage behind Maxime. "Good morning, Fleur."

"Is it?" she asked, raising a wry eyebrow. "Was I dreaming about you being in the Tournament, then?" she asked facetiously.

"Sorry, that nightmare's still going."

"Of course it is," Fleur muttered resignedly, before giving Harry a tired smile. "We do not have much time to speak before classes, _mon ami_."

Harry nodded, but it was better than nothing.

* * *

"We're doing all we can, Sirius," Dumbledore said as the Marauder paced in his office, on the same spot as Hercule had paced not so long ago.

"Are you? Forgive me for being sceptical about that, Dumbledore, given Magical Britain's track record in general," Sirius said, glaring at the older man. "Seriously, there were Death Eaters rioting at the bloody Quidditch World Cup, and even without that little interlude, the secrecy around that was sloppy. I've seen tighter controls on Muggleborn children doing magic than those idiots there, and I wouldn't be surprised if Mr Roberts, thanks to all those Obliviations, is acting like a Dementor Kissed him! But it's this Tournament that's worrying me, especially as both of you said that Bagman and Baum closed up any loopholes Harry could have used to get out of it. As I said before, the only thing preventing me from heading down there and hexing the hell out of either of them is knowing that the last time I ended up going off half-cocked, I ended up at Chez Azkaban with a Dementor waiter!"

"Which is why we are trying to find out what happened, Monsieur Black," Hercule said. He peered at the parchment sticking out of Remus' robes. "Is that the map you took off the twin brothers last year, Fred and George Weasley?"

"Yes," Remus said, fishing it out. "Sirius had some sort of gut feeling that we might need it."

As Remus opened up and activated the map, Hercule frowned. "I am not sure how this map, marvellous though it is, would be of any help. I mean, can it show us who put the name into the Goblet of Fire?"

"No. But maybe I could think of a 'rewind' function, like the VCRs Muggles use," Remus said, before he frowned in his own turn. Then, he paled.

"What's the matter, Moony? You look like you've seen a ghost," Sirius asked.

"Well…I'm seeing a dead man here, believe it or not," Remus said quietly. "Dead people don't show up on this map. And yet…I'm seeing someone marked 'Barty Crouch' in the Defence Against the Dark Arts classroom along with Moody."

Sirius snatched the map from Remus, while Dumbledore discreetly cast a charm to lock the door. After a moment, he said, "This is impossible! Both of them are dead! Moony, can you modify it so that it shows 'Junior' or 'Senior'?"

"Give me a moment," Remus said, taking it back.

"I think the more pertinent question is, leaving aside how a dead man can be here, how can he be in the same classroom as Moody?" Hercule said.

"That is indeed, disconcerting, Hercule," Dumbledore said. "After all, how have the students missed seeing him? Remus?"

"I need a few minutes," the werewolf said. "I once spoke to a Muggleborn whose family worked in computers about advanced spellwork when I was teaching last year. He compared some elements of spellwork to computer programming. He even said that, if one had complete control over a magical artifact through a password, capable of altering it, it would be what was called 'root access'. What I'm doing now is equivalent to that, reprogramming the Marauders' Map. It would only allow me, or the other Marauders, to do it. The password normally used is more like standard access."

After a few minutes, Remus looked at the map, before scowling. "Barty Crouch _Junior_."

"How the hell is that possible?!" Sirius demanded. "He died a year after he was thrown into Azkaban! I saw his parents come for a deathbed visit. I even saw Crouch Senior carry his wife past my cell, and she was already terminally ill, pining away for her son. I…" Suddenly he paled. The same revelation seemed to strike them all simultaneously.

" _Sacre bleu_ ," Hercule murmured, running a hand through his beard. "They may have switched! Polyjuice Potion! She was dying, and must have somehow persuaded her husband to switch her with her son! If this hypothesis is correct, anyway."

"However it happened, it seems that Barty Crouch Junior has escaped Azkaban," Dumbledore said quietly. "And it does put a disturbing new perspective on his death. Although he may have suffered a stroke on his own, his son may have delivered the _coup de grace_."

"And he's probably the one who put Harry's name into the Goblet," Sirius said with a low growl. "When he was brought in, I thought he might have been a hanger-on, in the wrong place at the wrong time. I didn't know for sure. But if he's here…"

"He must be masquerading as Moody," Hercule said, peering at the map with Remus. "Look at how he is positioned in the classroom, in a lecturing position. But Moody seems to be in the corner. Polyjuice Potion again, no? Keep Moody alive as a supply of hair for the potion. Professor Dumbledore…has Professor Snape experienced any theft of potion supplies, particularly those for Polyjuice Potion?"

"As it happens, a few nights ago, Professor Snape did report to me that he had a break-in in his rooms, and some supplies that could be used for Polyjuice Potion had been stolen. Sadly, at the time, he blamed Harry Potter or one of his friends."

"Snivellous would," Sirius said with a scowl. "The question is, what are we going to do about this?"

"The problem is, Sirius, is that if we go in and confront him, he may either escape to his master, or else Voldemort will change his plans," Dumbledore said. "For I believe Voldemort to be the one behind this. But at the same time, we cannot allow Crouch to run around unchecked. Incidentally, I must apologise, Hercule. You were suspicious of Moody, and I didn't want to countenance it."

Hercule nodded. "And I only had an instinct about him, not evidence, so it was understandable. Even so, the amendments Bagman and Baum made to the rules of the Tournament need to be checked. I will check them, in case Crouch is influencing one or both. The timing of those changes is too suspicious."

Dumbledore then looked at Sirius and Remus. "I understand your fears, and please know that I share them, in spite of appearances. But we need to handle this carefully, or else Harry may be in even greater danger. Knowing that there is a trap is the first step to avoiding it(1)."

"I hope you know what you're doing, Dumbledore," Sirius said with a scowl, "because you haven't really had much of a good track record where Harry was concerned."

"And I am trying to correct that, Sirius!" Dumbledore snapped. "Merlin knows I am trying!"

Remus interposed himself between the two wizards. "Our priority hasn't changed," Remus said. "We've got to keep Harry safe. And we can't do that squabbling."

Hercule nodded. "Well said, Monsieur Lupin."

* * *

That evening, in the Great Hall, with a certain sense of ceremony, Harry submitted to drinking Veritaserum, under the watchful eye of a tall, dark-skinned Auror by the name of Kingsley Shacklebolt. He then made his declaration about how he had not entered the Tournament, nor had he asked anyone to enter his name for him. It mollified most of Hogwarts and Beauxbatons, along with some of Durmstrang, though Karkaroff still looked sullen and sulky. After he made his declaration, Harry took the antidote, and returned to his seat for dinner.

Even so, he detested this attention on him. He may have proven his innocence, or at least lent credence to it, but even so, he knew that there were still whispers. Even with Fleur, her father, and Madame Maxime believing him, he felt he had taken away some of their glory. And he still had to compete in the Tournament.

He had support, at least. Ron had been turned away from a jealousy fit last night by Harry's words, and Hermione and Neville stuck by him without that. Cedric had managed to smooth things over with the Hufflepuffs, and Harry decided he owed him one. There were the Delacours, and some of the staff at Hogwarts (Snape and Filch being obvious exceptions), and of course Sirius and Remus, who were staying for a few days.

Harry sighed. This year, despite his intentions, looked like it was going to be one of the more eventful ones…

 **CHAPTER 10 ANNOTATIONS:**

 **Against all odds, I have updated this story. I didn't intend to for a long time, and frankly, it will be some time before you get another one. Real life has gotten in the way, and while some fanfics may get updated in the meantime, most won't get updated until the end of June. Why? I have an opportunity to write for a company I really want to write for via a competition, and I need to clear the decks in the meantime. Please don't ask for any more updates. Refusal may offend.**

 **On another note, yes, it's a bit contrived to have Sirius and Remus bring the Marauder's Map to Hogwarts. Deal with it. And there's a title drop in this chapter that you may have spotted.**

 **The next chapter will go onto the Weighing of the Wands and Rita Skeeter.**

 **Review-answering time!** **Bearmauls** **: You have a point. However, Harry's pride won't have him try to do anything other than his best. And I think the other Champions would be insulted if Harry just phoned it in, so to speak, especially Fleur (in this story at least, because Harry is in a relationship with her) and Cedric (who has faced Harry while playing Quidditch).**

 **1\. A quote from Frank Herbert's famous science fiction novel** ** _Dune_** **. Easily one of the best of all time.**


	12. Chapter 11: The Weighing of the Wands

**CHAPTER 11:**

 **THE WEIGHING OF THE WANDS**

The next little while did prove to be a small trial for Harry, even with his godfather staying here. Draco and his merry little circle of sycophants had tried to rile him by displaying badges that alternated between pro-Cedric messages and 'Potter Stinks'. Harry prevented a scene by asking Draco whether he had any that just had the Cedric-supporting messages. This completely wrongfooted Draco. In front of the Slytherins, Harry said then and there that the true Hogwarts Champion was Cedric Diggory, and he was only participating because he had little choice. Snape, who happened to be sweeping up as Harry was doing his speech, seemed to smile slightly as Harry took a badge from Draco, who had reluctantly taken the charm off so it only showed the message to support Cedric.

Sadly, Snape's slight good mood didn't last that long, as he soon had them working on antidotes. And it got even worse when Colin Creevey came in, asking for Harry to come along to something Bagman wanted him to come to.

He was led by Colin to a small classroom where the desks and chairs had been cleared away. Krum was standing by himself, moody as usual, though he gave Harry a brief nod when he entered. Fleur and Cedric were speaking, and when Harry entered, she smiled, and gestured Harry over. As Harry did so, he noticed that Bagman was talking to a witch wearing magenta robes. "Rita Skeeter," Cedric said quietly, noting Harry's line of sight. "Careful talking to her, Harry. She's a star reporter with _The Daily Prophet_ , but she's got a habit of fiddling with stories to suit her. Dad's run afoul of her before."

Harry nodded. Bagman chose that moment to notice Harry. "Ah, Harry! Great to have you here at last! Nothing to worry about, this, it's just the Wand-Weighing Ceremony. The other judges will be here soon."

"Wand-Weighing?" Harry asked.

"Apparently it's tradition," Cedric said quietly. "They check to see if our wands are in good condition. They've brought in Ollivander. He's with Dumbledore now."

"Well, it is important," Bagman said. "I mean, they will be your most important tools for the Tasks ahead. And there's going to be a little photoshoot. Anyway, this is Rita Skeeter, who's doing a small piece in _The Daily Prophet_ …"

"Perhaps not _that_ small, Ludo," Rita said. The blonde witch with the jewelled spectacles set Harry on edge a little. She approached Harry with a smile that put Harry in mind of a shark approaching prey. "Lovely to meet you, Mr Potter. That whole business with your godfather turning out to be innocent last year…what a story! Do you mind if I have a word with you in private?"

Harry immediately shook his head. "No, thank you."

"But I _insist_ ," she said, reaching out and taking his arm. With a yelp of protest, he was dragged into a nearby supplies cupboard, before Fleur or Cedric could do anything.

"She just wants to interview him," Bagman said to the other two all too-cheerfully. "Add a bit of colour to the article…"

After the cupboard was closed up, Rita took out some magical candles and lit them. "Now, normally, I would use a Quick-Quotes Quill. But given what I have heard about this little situation, a Self-Writing Quill will suffice," she said, fishing out a rather plain-looking quill which she sucked the end of, and then set over a piece of parchment.

"What do you mean?" Harry said, irritated by this woman taking liberties.

"Well, let's just say that this story is scandalous enough on its own to sell copies of _The Daily Prophet_ ," Rita said with a chuckle. "The Boy Who Lived, forced to enter the Tri-Wizard Tournament by unknown forces, and forced to declare his innocence through the use of Veritaserum. It needs little embellishment. And you're wearing that badge, too! How nice of you. Don't be scared, Harry."

Harry was not scared as much as annoyed by this woman, but sighed irritably, and resignedly. He wasn't going to get anywhere until he gave her something.

* * *

As Dumbledore walked down the corridors with Ollivander and the other Headmasters and Baum, he considered the situation. He understood Sirius' desire for action. Indeed, it was everything Dumbledore could do not to storm down to where Barty Crouch Junior was, use Legilimency or Veritaserum on him, and Obliviate him afterwards.

But what if he got something wrong? What if Crouch had stronger Occlumency than Dumbledore could penetrate covertly? What if that eye, stolen from Moody, alerted him to anyone coming up behind him? What if Crouch took children hostage to make his escape? What if he managed to escape for long enough to Apparate at the edge of the wards? And, of course, Dumbledore remembered that the Crouch family's House Elf had disappeared when Barty Crouch Senior died, and House Elves were one of the few exceptions to the anti-Apparition wards of Hogwarts (Dumbledore knew only of one other: a Phoenix's ability to teleport). There were so many ways things could go wrong.

And should Crouch go silent, Voldemort might change his plan, and he certainly would if Crouch escaped to report to him.

That was why Dumbledore asked Sirius and Remus to sit on the matter, for now, along with Hercule. He didn't intend to do nothing for too long: inertia was as great an enabler of evil as the wrong sort of action. It was figuring out what to do and how to do it that was the problem.

One possibility that Dumbledore considered was that it was the person entering the name into the Goblet, and not the person whose name was submitted, that would have their magic forfeited. However, what he read about the Goblet and the Tournament suggested that it was based on the name, no matter who submitted it.

There was also the matter of the Horcruxes. The Goblins had finally agreed to relinquish the Cup of Helga Hufflepuff, according to Sirius, as well as purging it of the Horcrux. That meant that the only Horcrux left in existence would soon be Nagini, Voldemort's familiar.

He was brought out of his reverie when he arrived at their destination. He frowned when he didn't see Harry, or Rita Skeeter for that matter, whom he knew was coming. His eyes met those of Fleur, who indicated the supplies cupboard. Dumbledore sighed, before schooling his expression, and opening the cupboard, seeing Rita and Harry squished up inside. Dumbledore had opened up many cupboards in his time as a teacher to find two people engaged in covert activity, but until now, journalism was never on the minds of those involved. Harry, he noted, was wearing one of the badges the Slytherins were making, currently showing a message in support of Cedric.

"Dumbledore!" Rita cried out in faux-delight, though he noticed that she had hidden the quill and parchment she was using with superlative speed. To his relief, though, the quill was not the acid green of her infamous Quick-Quotes Quill. "How are you?" she asked, extending one of her hands to him. "I hope you saw my piece over the summer about the ICW Conference?"

"Enchantingly nasty," Dumbledore said, matching her saccharine sweet tone with equanimity. "I particularly enjoyed your description of me as an obsolete dingbat."

"I was just making the point that some of your ideas are a little old-fashioned, Dumbledore, and that many wizards in the street…"

"I will be delighted to hear the reasoning behind the rudeness, Rita," Dumbledore said with a smile and a bow, out of courtesy rather than sincerity, "but I'm afraid that's a discussion for another time. The Weighing of the Wands is about to start, and it cannot take place if one of the Champions has been hidden in a broom cupboard…"

* * *

Harry was glad to be out of the cupboard, so to speak. Rita had asked quite a few questions, mostly about how he felt about the upcoming Tournament. There was something about her incisive manner he didn't like, not to mention the fact that she had taken a huge liberty dragging him into there. At least Dumbledore had fished him out. His relationship with the Headmaster had cooled a little since the events of last year, but even so, he was grateful.

He saw that Ollivander had come to the room, along with the judges. Ollivander asked Fleur to present her wand first. Harry already knew a little about her wand: the core was a hair from her Veela grandmother. Ollivander noted that Veela hairs made for temperamental wand cores, tested it with a spell, and then handed it back.

Cedric was next, with Ollivander recognising the wand as one of his own. Cedric proudly declared that he polished it last night, and Harry winced at the innuendo. Realising his own wand was grimy, he tried polishing it, only to cause sparks to fly out. Fleur noticed, and raised a wry eyebrow.

Krum was next, slouching over to Ollivander, who identified his wand as that of a wandmaker called Gregorovitch. "He is a famous wandmaker from Eastern Europe," Fleur said to Harry quietly.

Soon, it was Harry's turn, and Ollivander began examining it. Harry remembered the time he got it, of the time Ollivander spent so long measuring him and then handing him wand after wand. And, of course, the fact that this was a brother wand to Voldemort's. Thankfully, Ollivander said nothing about it, merely testing the wand before handing it back to Harry.

The photographs took a long time. Bagman wanted Fleur more prominent, while Rita wanted Harry more prominent. Krum skulked in the background, and Madame Maxime's size complicated matters. Eventually, they were let free, and the Champions went down to dinner.

As they walked down, Harry told Cedric and Fleur about what Rita did. Cedric frowned. "Usually Rita uses a Quick-Quotes Quill, at least according to my dad. Might be good for you, or bad, if she hasn't. It means this is already spectacular enough on its own to sell newspapers. By the way, why are you wearing that badge?"

"Because you're the real Champion for Hogwarts, Cedric," Harry said. "I just got Draco to get rid of the 'POTTER STINKS' message. I think he was so dumbfounded by the fact I would willingly support you that he actually acceded."

"But Harry, you are in the Tournament," Fleur said. "Why would you do this?"

"Because, Fleur, I hate my fame, remember? Cedric deserves the fame and glory in this, and so do you and Viktor Krum. I'm here because someone put my name into the Goblet. Don't get me wrong, I'm still going to give it my all."

"I'd expect no better, Harry," Cedric said. "After those Quidditch matches, I'd want you to do your best here."

"I agree, Harry," Fleur said. "I do not like you being in this Tournament for many reasons, but I would be insulted if you did not make the best effort you could."

"Thank you," Harry said. "I'll try my best then." As Cedric moved off, Harry said, "Fleur…your wand…you said the wand core came from your grandmother's hair."

The part-Veela nodded, solemnly. After a moment, she said softly, "When a single fullblooded Veela's hair is plucked, they remain forever transformed. My grandmother…she gave that to me as a parting gift, as well as a second hair for when Gabrielle gets her own wand."

"Sorry, it was a personal question…" Harry winced inwardly at his idiocy at putting his foot in it. Was he doing a Ron?

"No, it was just curiosity, and you are a friend I trust, Harry," Fleur said. "Such a thing as plucking hair will not affect a part-Veela like _Maman_ , or myself or Gabrielle." She took out her wand, an ornately-carved, beautiful thing that put even Harry's to shame, and tapped it against her palm pensively. "My grandmother now lives with the Veela full-time. We visit her on occasion. But as long as I have this wand with me, she is with me always."

Harry chuckled a little. "I wish I could have given you a gift like that, Fleur. It means a lot to you, doesn't it?"

Fleur nodded. "Do you have anything like that, _mon ami?_ "

The question was an unexpected one, wrongfooting him. If she meant family heirlooms, well, the only one he could think of offhand was his father's Invisibility Cloak. And then, there was his mother's protection, the sacrifice to protect him, more valuable than any physical item. "Yes, I do," he admitted after a moment's thought.

Fleur smiled. "We had better get going. Dinner is being served, I am sure. And I for one have had enough of dealing with the press." Her expression became pensive. "Did Skeeter…ask anything about us?"

"No. I don't think she's caught wind of that yet," Harry said.

"She will. Madame Maxime warned me, as did _Papa_. Once it comes out publicly about you and I, it will be…messy."

"Story of my life," Harry muttered in resignation. He didn't think about how his life could possibly get any worse. That was going to be tempting the universe to make it so. But at least he had his friends, in Hogwarts, in Magical Britain, in Beauxbatons, and in the Delacours. If nothing else, he had those people behind him. He just hoped it was enough…

 **CHAPTER 11 ANNOTATIONS:**

 **Yeah, I'm surprised I got another chapter out so quickly too. And frankly, this is going to have to be the last one for a while due to the real life circumstances mentioned in the prior chapter's notes. I'll have to force myself to stop writing fanfic.**

 **Now, people might be wondering, why is Rita being so nice compared to canon? That's easy. The whole thing about a Fourth Champion being entered is scandalous enough, and Harry's declaration of innocence under Veritaserum has already reached Rita's ears. She will get nasty later on, but for now, the scandal of Harry being forced to enter is enough to fulfil** ** _The Daily Prophet_** **'s quota of scandalous yellow journalism. If anything, she's going to be targeting Baum and Bagman. Of course, once she learns of Harry and Fleur being in a relationship, well…**

 **As I post this, I have also found out that not only two of my fanfics, namely** ** _Harry Potter and the Cetra Heritage_** **and** ** _Is Your Great-Aunt an AI?!_** **, have been recommended on TV Tropes, but the Cetra Heritage Saga now has an actual Tropes page, under** ** _Harry Potter and the Cetra Heritage!_** **Booyah!**

 **Review-answering time! I'm** ** _very_** **annoyed at how many of you were quick to criticise what I did in the previous chapter regarding the revelation about Crouch and what they did about it. Dumbledore and the others aren't going to sit idly around, rather, they're going to make plans carefully before dealing with Crouch (which may not have been clear from the wording). If you don't like the way I'm taking the story, don't read. Anyway, I thought my use of Death as a plot device in** ** _In Spite of Obstinate Men_** **was a far more egregious problem. Keep in mind that** ** _I_** **am the author of this work, and it is I who dictate how this story goes. Not you guys.**

 **Thanks to those who wished me well for the writing opportunity. Hopefully, it'll go somewhere. :)**

 **diagonalpumpkin** **: I think being exonerated rather than being forced into a fugitive lifestyle has helped Sirius reappraise himself a little better than in canon. He still is impulsive, and it was partly thanks to Lupin that he didn't barge in like he would have anyway. And as for Draco…well, I wrote in that scene above. Part of the reason why Snape smiles is that he probably saw a bit of Lily in Harry at that moment.**

 **Bearmauls** **: You're welcome, and I had Cedric and Fleur discuss it in this chapter. They both realise Harry is an unwitting interloper in the Tournament, but they also want him to try his best.**

 **Sean Malloy-1** **: As I noted above, there will come a point where Rita finds out about Harry and Fleur, and attacks them. It'll probably be after the Yule Ball, though that depends on whether Rita thinks that Hagrid's parentage is more newsworthy than the Boy Who Lived 'ensnared' by a foreigner, and a Veela. And yes, Harry and Fleur will be paired for the Yule Ball.**

 **No numbered annotations this time.**


	13. Chapter 12: Discovering the Dragons

**CHAPTER 12:**

 **DISCOVERING THE DRAGONS**

"I have confirmed it," Hercule Delacour said to Dumbledore in his office. "Madam Baum is under the influence of the Imperius Curse. I cannot tell whether it is the impostor who is doing this, but I would think that is the case. Bagman, as far as I can tell, is merely following her lead, and thus that of Barty Crouch Junior. He just thinks this is a golden opportunity. I have contacts with the Goblins, and apparently he is in heavy debt to them. He has made a bet that Harry will win the Tournament. Which means either Bagman may help Harry in contravention of the rules, or else that he may try to sabotage the other Champions, subtly or otherwise."

"I would think the former," Dumbledore said. "Ludo doesn't have much malice in him, save towards any creditors he thinks he can browbeat. He would help Harry over the others."

"Do you have a plan, as of yet, to deal with Crouch?"

"If Baum is the one being influenced by the Imperius, then she may know some of the plan," Dumbledore said. "Unwillingly, yes, but she'd know. I have used subtle and gentle Legilimency to test Crouch's barriers, but his Occlumency is excellent, and anything stronger may get his attention. But Baum is the weak link, and she may know something."

Hercule nodded thoughtfully. "That is a good idea. But we need to see Baum in the first place, on a pretext. I do not feel right about this, though. We are still leaving Harry in this Tournament, magical contract or not. Not to mention having a…how do you say? A cuckoo in the nest."

"I don't like it any more than you do, Hercule, but remember, it is easy to mistake patience for apathy or dithering. The more we know, the better our chances of taking action and succeeding. In any case, we will soon have the Cup of Helga Hufflepuff to remove the Horcrux from. After that, the only one left will be Voldemort's familiar. Then, we can rid the world of him for once and for all, and many will be glad of it. If that is one thing I wish to leave the world more than anything else, then it is the final end of Voldemort. Everyone will breathe a little easier then, especially Harry…"

* * *

The article in _The Daily Prophet_ had been embarrassing, in that it brought more unwanted attention to Harry. Cedric told him quietly that, compared to Rita's usual fare, Harry got off lightly: Rita Skeeter's work was the epitome of yellow journalism. Even so, Harry felt uncomfortable with all the attention, though he did score some points with some of the students at Hogwarts for wearing a SUPPORT CEDRIC DIGGORY badge, especially the Hufflepuffs.

It could have been worse. Much worse. His willingness to testify under Veritaserum helped, and Ron at least believed him, as did Hermione, and a good chunk of the school. Even Snape, for once, seemed grudgingly impressed that Harry had fronted up and willingly took Veritaserum. And, of course, Fleur believed him.

That being said, they didn't see each other as much as they wanted to. And as the day of the First Task drew nearer, the pressure grew, with Hermione tutoring Harry on the Summoning Charm, something he had been having a bit of trouble with.

It was during a visit to Hogsmeade on a Saturday that Hagrid told Harry, albeit covertly (and more covertly than Hagrid was normally capable of, astonishingly), to meet him at his hut at midnight, using the Invisibility Cloak. Which was why he was now following Hagrid to the Beauxbatons carriage, with Hagrid having apparently made an effort to groom himself. Harry sighed. Was he going to be an invisible gooseberry while Hagrid was out on the pull or something?

He followed Hagrid to the carriage, where he knocked on the door. Madame Maxime exited, and they set off, Harry following not far behind, bemusedly. He got intrigued when Hagrid mentioned that what they were about to see, he wasn't really supposed to show anyone. It was a fairly long walk, around the perimeter of the Forbidden Forest. Soon, with the Forest between them and Hogwarts proper, he began to hear something. The shouting of men…and then, a deafening roar.

As Hagrid and Maxime finally stopped, Harry looked to where Hagrid had led them. At first, he thought he saw bonfires with men flitting around them…until he realised what he was really seeing.

 _Dragons_. A quartet of what had to be fully-grown, large as life, dragons. All inside an enclosure, fighting off the attempts of the nearby wizards to control them. The dragons were eventually stunned, and Hagrid led Maxime, and by proxy, Harry, in for a closer look.

Charlie Weasley was there, and had warned Hagrid against approaching earlier. He came up to Hagrid, who was enraptured by the fully-grown dragons, and discussed the various breeds. The one closest to them, a black, very reptilian dragon with a viciously spiked tail, was apparently a Hungarian Horntail.

As Madame Maxime walked around the enclosure, peering at the dragons, Charlie said, "I didn't know you were bringing her, Hagrid. The Champions aren't supposed to know what's coming. She's bound to tell her student, isn't she?"

"Jus' thought she'd like ter see 'em," Hagrid said with a shrug, still gazing at the dragons in rapture and awe.

"Really romantic date, Hagrid," Charlie remarked dryly. Harry had to agree. Hagrid was a good man, but he was also simple.

"Four…" Hagrid mused. "One fer each Champion…what've they gotta do, fight 'em?"

 _Oh God, I hope not_ , Harry thought to himself.

"Just get past them, I think," Charlie said. "We'll be on hand if it gets nasty, extinguishing spells at the ready." Harry thought that far from reassuring, and even less so when Charlie added, "Why they wanted nesting mothers, I've no idea, unless it's that idiot Bagman's idea of entertainment. I don't envy the one who gets the Horntail, though. Vicious thing. Its tail's as dangerous as its maw."

Hagrid emitted a moan of desire when he saw some of Charlie's colleagues hauling up a blanket full of eggs. Harry remembered Hagrid's desire to own a dragon, and Charlie obviously remembered this as well (given that he was the one who had to transport Norbert), as he said sternly, "I've counted them, Hagrid." They made some small talk about Harry's state of mind, and after a while, Harry left.

Forewarned is forearmed, as the old cliché went. Harry knew about the dragons, and he could see Madame Maxime telling Fleur, if only to ensure that Fleur would survive relatively intact. The problem was, he was armed only with his wand. What could he do with that? What spells did he know that would be effective against a bloody dragon? Even the true Champions would have trouble, he was sure, if not be in terrible danger.

He cursed Bagman quietly to himself. As he did so, he very nearly ran into someone as he made his way back to the castle. That someone was Karkaroff. And Harry knew he would tell Krum what the First Task was, in order to have his Champion have an advantage. Karkaroff looked like the sort to insist on fair play from others, but never adhere to it himself if he could get away with it.

Which meant that only Cedric would be ignorant. And Harry intended to ensure he didn't remain that way. As he was Hogwarts' official Champion, he deserved the same advantage the other Champions did. And frankly, allowing him to remain ignorant while going up against bloody dragons? Yeah, _no_.

* * *

On the Sunday after he had seen the dragons, Harry convened with Hermione, Sirius and Remus, along with Ron. They began brainstorming ways of dealing with the dragon. It wasn't until they began thinking of Harry's strengths that Ron, rather serendipitously, hit upon a solution. "Well, Harry's good with a broomstick, isn't he? I mean, being a Seeker and all. Will he be able to get his broomstick, somehow?"

At first, they seemed set to dismiss it, until Hermione's eyes widened. "Of course, the Summoning Charm! There's nothing in the rules against summoning tools to your aid with a wand, are there?"

"Not as far as I know," Remus said, shaking his head. "And I've read the rules and guidelines of this Tournament inside and out to try and get Harry out of this."

"Then that's it. We'll try and get Harry trained on the Summoning Charm," Hermione said decisively.

* * *

After a hard day's training in it, Harry went down to dinner alone, and happened to bump into Cedric. Serendipitous, but welcome. "Cedric," Harry said quietly. "The First Task involves dragons."

Cedric started, and then looked at him. "Are you sure?" he hissed, panic flickering subtly in his eyes.

"Positive. Don't ask me how I know. Fleur and Krum probably already know. You don't. And I don't want you in the dark about it. It's not only unfair, but…well, we're facing _dragons_. Not knowing about that sort of thing could kill you."

Cedric nodded, getting the point. "I see. Thanks, Harry. You sure Fleur and Krum know?"

"I don't know for sure. I might see if Fleur knows, but I'm sure she does." And then, Harry saw Fleur coming down the corridor herself, looking worried.

* * *

Dragons! They were fighting dragons, of all things!

This had to be Bagman's idea, Fleur knew. When Madame Maxime told her about the dragons, Fleur's immediate reaction was to accuse her headmistress of making some unseemly and grotesque joke. Maxime had disabused Fleur of that notion, of that hope. If it was a joke, it wasn't funny, and it was at Fleur's expense, along with that of the other Champions.

She had meant to approach Harry and tell him about it, and Cedric, as Maxime had spotted Karkaroff skulking around, and he was sure to tell Krum what was coming. Maxime had warned her against this, but Fleur would be damned before she saw Harry end up as toast because he wasn't forewarned. As for Cedric, well, it wasn't fair to tell Harry and not tell Cedric. She hadn't tried until now because she was formulating her strategy against the dragon with Audrey and Marie.

"Harry, Cedric, I must tell you about the First Task," she said quietly but urgently.

"We know," Harry said quietly. "It's dragons."

Fleur blinked. He knew already? "If you knew…why…"

"I haven't gotten around to telling you," Harry said. "I was going to find you as soon as I could, make sure you did know. You know already, though?"

" _Oui_ ," Fleur said. "I have been working on a strategy."

"So have I. Cedric, you'd better find one soon," Harry said.

"Got it," Cedric said. "What about Krum?"

"He will know, believe me," Fleur said. "So…at least we are on…how do you say? Even footing?"

Cedric nodded. "Thanks for the heads-up, you two. Still… _dragons_. I wonder if my father had any idea about that. He works in the Department for Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures, after all."

"I do not know, but this stinks of Bagman and his love of spectacle in place of common sense," Fleur said. "We will each formulate our own strategies. We are meant to be competitors, _n'est-ce pas?_ I wish you both the best of luck."

"Fleur…" Harry said. "The same to you. I think we'll all need it."

Fleur chuckled, the sound somewhat hollow. And with that, she went to dinner, Harry and Cedric going to their respective tables. Fleur, however, found that she didn't have much of an appetite. She knew why, too. The First Task was coming up all too soon, and she and Harry would be facing dragons. Damned dragons. She was tempted to track Bagman down and set fire to his genitals for even considering that. Yes, they needed skill and bravery to get through the Tournament, but what happened to making it safer? A dragon was a deadly beast: one false step, and the Champions could die. She remembered reading about one of the dragons they were going to face, the Swedish Short-Snout. Its flame could reduce bone to ashes within seconds. And of course, there was the infamously aggressive Hungarian Horntail.

Baum's words that night when the Champions were chosen came back to haunt her, almost mockingly: … _your Champions are already bound to compete, lest they forfeit their own magic_. Fleur was committed to this. Given that she was part-Veela, and thus part-magical creature, forfeiting her magic would be almost certainly fatal. Harry would not run the same risk should he forfeit. He would merely become a Squib at best, and while many wizards would consider that a fate worse than death, Harry would have accepted that. But he chose to continue. Then again, becoming a Squib meant that he would be powerless, or at least weaker than he should be, to face Voldemort and his lackeys.

Fleur sighed quietly as she toyed with her food. She hated this situation. She hated having to compete against her friend. One she loved.

Loved? Yes. She actually realised that there was love for him growing in her heart. There had been affection and attraction and even a little desire for some time, yes, but love…for the first time, Fleur actually believed it could be love.

Not that that meant much. Love, sadly, couldn't help against a dragon, and no wishful thinking could change that…

 **CHAPTER 12 ANNOTATIONS:**

 **So, here you have it. Harry and the others have found out about the dragons. The next chapter will be the First Task, from Fleur's point of view. Why Fleur? Because I want to write it from one other than Harry's. Unless I finish another chapter before then, though, you'll have to wait until the July update to get that one.**

 **Review-answering time!** **Sean Malloy-1** **: She finds many of them quaint. She enjoys Charms and Transfiguration, though.**

 **Dgf123** **: I have more than a few stories with Dumbledore bashing, or at least a villainous Dumbledore. They are** ** _Sins of the Father_** **(a** ** _Naruto_** **crossover),** ** _Esper Child_** **(a** ** _Final Fantasy VI_** **crossover), and** ** _Fall to Zenith_** **(a** ** _Highschool DxD_** **crossover). But I do those if they fit the story I want to tell. Other times, I reconstruct Dumbledore rather than deconstruct him or demonise him. I'm doing a few more in the future, including two stories I currently have in my archive of abandoned and possible fics,** ** _The Cauldron_** **:** ** _The Uncertainty Principle_** **(my second crossover with** ** _Hellsing_** **) and** ** _Verdant Magic_** **(my first crossover with the Batman franchise).**

 **No numbered annotations for this chapter.**


	14. Chapter 13: The First Task

**CHAPTER 13:**

 **THE FIRST TASK**

As she waited in the tent for the First Task to begin, Fleur felt ill. The fear and anxiety roiled and boiled in her stomach as she sat on a stool in the corner. She wasn't sure she was ready, and only the fact that she knew something the others didn't helped console her.

It was a spell, a special charm exclusive to Veela and those with enough of their blood to use it. It could send those affected into sleep, used by Veela to calm some of the dangerous magical creatures in their settlements. It didn't affect humans or Veela, but dragons were another matter. If it worked, getting past the dragon should be easy.

Not that she could count on it being so easy. What was it her father said? No plan survives contact with the enemy. And considering said enemy was a fire-breathing dragon, the plan would probably be reduced to ashes. Not for the first time, she mentally cursed Bagman and his idea of spectacle. At least she and the other Champions knew about what was coming.

Cedric and Krum were both present, Krum looking more sullen than usual, and Cedric was pacing up and down. Bagman was standing there in his old Quidditch robes, looking for all the world like he was just going to enjoy a game of Quidditch, and as dangerous as Quidditch could be, it had nothing on facing a dragon. Those hideous yellow and black striped robes made him look like something out of a cartoon, and Fleur was sorely tempted to see whether Bagman could survive being set on fire, like many a cartoon. She had to stifle a dark giggle at a thought of a cartoon version of her chasing a cartoon Bagman while in her transformed form, hurling fireballs, all to the tune of _Merrily We Roll Along(_ _1)_.

Soon, Harry arrived, looking understandably pale and nervous. Fleur shot him a reassuring smile, as did Cedric, one which Harry returned, though their smiles seemed to have more teeth than reassurance. Bagman, however, was happy. "Harry! Good-oh! Come in, come in! Make yourself at home!"

Harry looked like he wanted to be anywhere but here. In fact, he looked like he wanted to donate his meals for the day to the nearest toilet. But he walked further into the tent. "Well, now we're all here, time to fill you in!" Bagman said, clapping his hands together as if he was about to administer a cooking lesson than sending them to a possible burning death. So, probably a cooking lesson, but more for the dragons than the Champions. He then picked up a sack. "When the audience has assembled, I'll be offering each of you this bag from which you will each select a small model of the thing you're going to face! There are different…um…varieties, you see. And I have to tell you something else…" Bagman seemed to try and recall something from the wreckage of his punch-drunk brain. "Ah, yes! Your task is to _collect the Golden Egg!_ "

Very portentous, Fleur thought. Fleur glanced at Harry and Cedric, who nodded. She then looked at Krum, who looked as ill as she felt. As Bagman left the tent for the moment, Fleur resisted the urge to put her face in her hands. Grab a Golden Egg…from dragons who were nesting mothers to boot! Never mind setting Bagman on fire. Fleur, for the first time in her life, actually wanted to know the Cruciatus Curse so that she could use it on that punch-drunk imbecile.

"Are you all right, Fleur?" Harry asked.

"Not really, _mon ami_ ," Fleur said quietly.

"You looked like you wanted to hurt someone for a moment there," Cedric said.

"I can guess who," Krum said. "That fool Bagman. You…know what we are up against?"

The others nodded. "You?" Cedric asked.

" _Da_. Professor Karkaroff told me cheating has been a tradition of this Tournament since the beginning."

Fleur nodded. Madame Maxime had told her the very same thing. Of course, Maxime was also worried about her charge going up against dragons. "We are on an equal footing, then," Fleur said. "What matters are our different strategies, and we keep those to ourselves."

Cedric and Krum nodded. Harry, meanwhile, didn't look at all assured. Fleur could understand that. He was three years her junior, _their_ junior. Even a wizard or witch who had come of age would have a lot of difficulty with a dragon. A boy who hadn't even passed…what was the British term? OWLS. He hadn't passed his OWLS yet, and he was expected to face the dragon.

Fleur felt protective towards Harry. It was not just the small but growing love inside her. People thought Veela to be merely mercurial and aggressive when provoked, but Veela were also very protective of those they cared about. And while Fleur was only a quarter Veela, she still had these instincts, and they were coming to the fore stronger than before today.

After a moment, Fleur got up from her stool, and gently hugged Harry. "You will be all right, _mon ami_." She then kissed his forehead gently. "You have been through worse, have you not?"

Harry nodded mutely. He had told her once about having to face a Basilisk, of all things, and that was worse than a dragon. Harry was lucky to be alive.

The two stood there, for a time, just embracing, drawing strength from each other. They would need every ounce of it…

* * *

Sometime later, after they heard the stands erected nearby being filled, Bagman came back. Thankfully, Harry and Fleur had finished their embrace some time ago. Bagman was still wearing those stupid striped robes and that fatuous, inane grin. He picked up the sack, and proffered it to Fleur. "Ladies first," he said with a grin that he obviously thought was winning and chivalrous. Fleur wanted to hit it with a brick. On reflection, it probably had been hit by a Bludger repeatedly. Fleur reckoned that he hadn't been hit enough with one, though.

As she fumbled around in the bag for her dragon, Fleur was reminded of the Roman practise of decimation, where Roman cohorts were divided into groups of ten. The ten soldiers then drew lots, and one unlucky bastard in ten would be chosen in that way to be killed by his own comrades. It was a punishment for desertion or mutiny. Fleur felt some sympathy for any soldier roped into that sort of thing, especially if she got a tamer dragon. After all, it meant a chance that Harry might get a bad one. _Ave Caesar, mortiuri te salutant_ , she thought to herself. They were like gladiators about to be thrown to wild animals for the entertainment of the crowd outside.

She eventually plucked out a dragon figurine. It was marked with the number 2, and she sighed a mental sigh of relief. The Common Welsh Green, debatably one of the more docile dragons, relatively speaking. Of course, it meant that Harry could get the Hungarian Horntail.

Krum went next, and got one Fleur recognised as a Chinese Fireball, marked with the number 3. Cedric went next, and got a Swedish Short-Snout with the number 1 marked on it. With a sinking feeling, Fleur watched as Harry, resignedly, plucked out the last model, both knowing what was coming. It was the Hungarian Horntail, marked with the number 4. A number which, if she recalled correctly, had associations with death in Asian countries. She hoped that wasn't an omen. The fact that it was the most aggressive and dangerous dragon was bad enough. She hoped that Harry's strategy would work, whatever it was.

Bagman then stated the obvious, saying that they were going to face the dragons they drew in the order noted by the numbers. He told Cedric to move out when he heard a whistle, and then, he asked Harry to quietly come with him outside for a moment. Fleur's eyes narrowed when she heard that, and Harry looked confused, and suspicious. "You ready?" Cedric asked his fellow Champions.

"As much as I can be," Fleur said.

" _Da_. I agree," Krum said.

After a few minutes, the whistle blew, and as Cedric left the tent, Fleur heard Bagman yelp that he needed to run. Then, Harry staggered back in. "What did he want?" Fleur asked.

"He…he just wanted to talk," Harry said.

"Give you hints, I would say," Krum growled. "I hope you refused."

Harry nodded. "I have my plan anyway. Are you guys all right?"

"I am about to face a dragon," Krum remarked dryly. "I do not think that constitutes as 'all right'."

The laughter that came from Fleur and Harry was a little forced, but Harry then asked, "What's worse? Facing a dragon, or playing in the Quidditch World Cup?"

As cheering and applause erupted from the enclosure, Krum eventually said, "I do not know."

* * *

What followed was fifteen minutes of excruciating waiting, not helped by the roars of the dragon, the roars of the crowd, and the occasional roar from Bagman, making excited commentary on some move or another. Then, finally, Cedric must have gotten the egg, for it was now time for the judge's scores. They didn't say them out loud, apparently showing them to the crowd. Then, a whistle sounded. "One down, three to go! Miss Delacour, if you please!"

"Good luck, Fleur," Harry said to her.

Fleur smiled a little shakily. "And to you too, _mon ami_." Then, as dignified as she could manage, she walked out into the arena. This must be how a condemned prisoner feels, she thought quietly to herself.

The cloud began roaring again. In the stands, she could see her father, smiling at her reassuringly. So too were Harry's friends, and her own. Madame Maxime and Dumbledore were giving encouraging smiles, as were Lupin and Black. Karkaroff, however, was scowling down at her. Something in his eyes told her he wanted her to be burned to a crisp. And even a Veela's natural affinity with fire wouldn't be that great a protection against dragonfire.

The spell she had to use would require some time to work on something as big as a dragon, and the dragon, while the most docile of the lot, still looked rather belligerent. It was almost part a Veela dance, and partly an actual charm. She had to dodge a few fireballs the dragon sent her way, and pick up where she left off. But eventually, the dragon fell asleep. It took longer than she thought, but dragons were notoriously resistant to magic anyway. It might have worked better on a male dragon too.

Fleur crept forward, before finding the Golden Egg. She took it carefully, before she began making her way back, as unhurriedly as she could. Then, suddenly, the dragon snorted as it snored, and she instinctively leapt out of the way of a jet of flame. In other times, she wouldn't have, and her robes may have caught on fire. But here, she managed to avoid getting so much as singed, though she sprained her ankle slightly as she landed awkwardly, though she managed to conceal it. Walking (or rather, limping, albeit slightly) in a manner more calmly than she felt, she made her way back to the entrance of the enclosure, where she was ushered by that McGonagall woman to another tent, a first-aid tent. "Professor, I am unharmed," Fleur said, ignoring the pain in her ankle.

"Even so, Madam Pomfrey needs to check you. It's procedure, Miss Delacour," McGonagall said quietly. "Poor Mr Diggory got burned. Not too badly, but…it's better to be safe than sorry. And we have to keep you separate from the other Champions."

Fleur nodded her reluctant assent. "Very well."

"And Miss Delacour, well done. I can see what Mr Potter sees in you," the older witch said with a smile.

"Is it that obvious?" Fleur asked.

"To some, yes. Just be prepared for the time when it all comes out, Miss Delacour. That dreadful Rita Skeeter has been coming here to cover the Tournament."

"Madame Maxime has already warned me, but thank you all the same, Professor," Fleur said, before entering the first-aid tent, where she heard Cedric grunting in pain. The form of Pomfrey, the stern medi-witch of Hogwarts, emerged from a sort of cubicle, presumably where Cedric was being treated. She could hear a roar in the enclosure, presumably as Krum made his appearance.

"Professor McGonagall sent me," Fleur said.

"Very well, just a moment." Pomfrey ducked into the cubicle, worked on Cedric a bit more, and then emerged. After looking Fleur up and down for any injuries, Pomfrey waved a wand, casting a diagnostic charm. Satisfied, she said, "Thankfully, you have nothing beyond stress and a slightly sprained ankle. Better than Mr Diggory, though." Pomfrey sighed. "Dragons!" she spat out, as if it was an expletive. Fleur knew the feeling. She then took Fleur over to a cubicle, had her lift up the hem of her robes, and then cast a spell on her ankle. "You are very lucky, young lady. I'll give you a salve to use."

"I know," Fleur said. "Is Cedric all right?"

"He's got burned on his face, but nothing some salves and spells won't fix quickly," Pomfrey said as she handed Fleur a small jar of salve. "I saw it happen. He Transfigured a rock into a dog as a distraction, but while he was getting his egg, the dragon decided to make a meal of him instead. Minerva was proud of the Transfiguration, but Mr Diggory will find that small consolation, though it could have been far worse. As it is, he'll be fine within the hour at most."

"That is good," Fleur said quietly. "May I go and watch the others?"

"I suppose. But rub that salve onto your ankle, Miss Delacour!"

* * *

Not long afterwards, Krum finished his bout with his dragon. Fleur winced as she saw the dragon flailing around, smashing the eggs it had been on. Despite this, Fleur scowled when she saw that Karkaroff, in a blatant show of favouritism, gave Krum a ten, while the others took points off for the smashed eggs. Fleur realised she didn't even know her score.

Upon asking, McGonagall said, quietly, "You got forty points, Miss Delacour. It would have been more, but Karkaroff only gave you a three. You are just ahead of Mr Diggory, while Mr Krum is currently in the lead with forty-four points."

"And Harry?"

"He's just about to begin," McGonagall said. And sure enough, the dragon handlers had just finished switching the dragons. That Hungarian Horntail looked ornery, to say the least. Fleur, meanwhile, scowled to herself at Karkaroff's favouritism, and judging by Krum's expression as he came out of the first-aid tent, he shared that irritation.

Even so, Krum seemed to want to see what happened, and so did Fleur. Neither were disappointed. Harry walked out, not confidently, rather resignedly…but after he halted, he raised his wand, and yelled, "ACCIO, _FIREBOLT!_ "

Fleur gasped when she realised what he intended to do. Krum muttered, "I should have thought of that."

And then, suddenly, a broom sped towards Harry, brought to him by the Summoning Charm. Krum whistled softly. "Summoning a broomstick from the castle? He either is good, or works well under pressure, _da?_ "

"Mr Potter is the best Seeker we've had in Gryffindor for some time," McGonagall said proudly. "He'll be trying to bait the dragon into rising long enough for him to snatch the egg, I am sure."

"You've got that right," growled Alastor Moody, who had arrived, along with Hagrid.

Fleur and Krum looked on as Harry used the broom to fly around the dragon, trying to get it to rear up enough to snatch the egg. Krum nodded appreciatively. "He is a good flyer. No wonder he is a good Seeker." They then all flinched as Harry, in dodging a jet of flame, got grazed by the spiked tail of the dragon.

Harry backed off after this, keeping just in the right range not to be attacked, but still being tracked by the wary dragon. Then, after he managed to get the dragon to rear up, he acted, diving as if he had spotted the Snitch, snatching the Golden Egg expertly before flying off as fast as he could, much to the frustration of the dragon. Krum then said, "Very good flyer."

Harry soon landed, and headed shakily towards the exit of the arena. When he saw Fleur and the others, he smiled, shakily. Fleur couldn't blame him for being this way. He had just done something few wizards could ever claim to have done, tangling with a dragon and living to tell the tale. "Are you all right, _mon ami?_ " Fleur asked.

He nodded, still on an adrenaline high, no doubt. Still, she had to admit, when all was said and done, he had done exceedingly well for a boy his age. And she was glad he came out of that intact, more or less…

 **CHAPTER 13 ANNOTATIONS:**

 **And here you have it, the First Task. I decided to write it from Fleur's point of view, as mentioned in the previous chapter, to do it from a POV other than Harry's. I hope you enjoyed it all the same. The next chapter will be the lead-up to the Yule Ball, with Dumbledore and Hercule having uncovered more of Crouch's plans, and Fleur and Harry interacting, especially over the Golden Egg.**

 **Incidentally, I've written up to Chapter 15 now. You'll be getting that chapter (which has the Yule Ball) with the July update.**

 **On another note, if any of you are interested in stories that should have sequels, go to my profile and vote in my poll.**

 **Review-answering time! Sean Malloy-1: I have written her thoughts on the classes into the next chapter.**

 **SiriuslyGrim : Chapter 15 will have kissing and an admission of feelings. And at the Yule Ball too.**

 **1.** ** _Merrily We Roll Along_** **is best known nowadays as the theme tune (or one of them) from** ** _Merrie Melodies_** **and** ** _Looney Tunes_** **.**


	15. Chapter 14: Egg-sterminate!

**CHAPTER 14:**

 **EGG-STERMINATE!**

Fleur stared at the egg she had just opened, and shut rather hurriedly, early the next morning. " _This_ ," she said flatly to Audrey and Marie, " _is what I risked my life to get. An egg that screeches at me whenever I open it. This is meant to be the clue that that idiot Bagman told me about._ "

" _Yep. I'd say it's a practical joke_ ," Marie said, " _but I don't think even Bagman would put such a thing into the Tri-Wizard Tournament. Maybe you should try drowning it._ "

" _That's not a bad idea_ ," Fleur said, scowling at the Golden Egg. " _I want to see if it does screech underwater._ "

" _Actually, I think Marie may be onto something_ ," Audrey said in her usual quiet manner. " _If I didn't know any better…I'd say that was Mermish._ "

" _Mermish?_ " Fleur mused. " _Audrey, how do you know Mermish?_ "

Audrey flinched, before saying, " _On holiday once with my parents, I went to Cannes. I went wandering at night, and found a Mermaid washed up, hurt. She screeched in the same way. Her fellows found her, and took her away. They gave me this most beautiful seashell in thanks for looking after her, but my grandfather threw it onto a bonfire, thinking it magical._ "

" _Bastard_ ," Marie remarked. " _Still, it's the best lead we have. Let's drown this stupid thing_ …"

* * *

Dumbledore sat at his desk, Hercule sitting across from him. "I've confirmed it. Baum does indeed know something about the plan. It is as I feared: Harry will be subjected to trials throughout the year via the Tri-Wizard Tournament, kept at bay in order to give the ritual the most potency in reviving Voldemort. She even knows the ritual itself, a vile one, using bone of the father, flesh from a servant willingly given, and blood from an enemy, taken against said enemy's will. I am almost certain that the ritual is going to take place at Little Hangleton."

"Because that is where Voldemort's father lived and died," Hercule said.

"Indeed. He may even have been there when I retrieved the ring from the Gaunt shack," Dumbledore said. "Thankfully, he didn't notice me if he was. Crouch also intends to turn the Tri-Wizard Cup into a Portkey to send Harry to Little Hangleton when the Third Task is complete."

"So Crouch is intending to help Harry along with the Tournament, then. He'll probably drop subtle hints."

Dumbledore nodded. "I asked Hagrid about the dragons. After some questioning, he admitted that Moody's impostor suggested showing Harry while he was showing Madame Maxime the dragons. He was trying to impress Olympe, you see. And as Hagrid didn't know Moody was an impostor, he saw no harm in helping Harry. Cheating, after all, is a tradition of the Tri-Wizard Tournament, even if I would prefer otherwise. I didn't tell Hagrid about Moody being an impostor. He is trustworthy and utterly loyal, but he cannot keep a secret to save his life. Especially when dragons and alcohol get involved."

"Harry did endeavour to warn Cedric Diggory, from what my daughter told me. And Harry wanted to make sure that Fleur knew, though he had an inkling that Madame Maxime would tell her anyway. He knew Karkaroff would tell Krum about the dragons."

"Indeed. Igor…is not the best of men, I will admit, though I cannot talk, given how many faults I have accumulated in my life."

"Becoming a Death Eater is not one of them. And while the judges yesterday, save for Baum, could be accused of favouritism, Karkaroff was egregiously engaged in it more than any other. You saw the ridiculously low scores he gave to anyone barring Krum. Krum was indeed a talented boy, as we saw, but the three other Champions deserved better scores than he gave them." Hercule got up, and began pacing. "Now, let us get back to Voldemort. What do we do if he is in Little Hangleton?"

"We may not be able to do much. He is sure to have wards that will warn him against those intending him harm. But there are ways we can interfere with the plan. The first is to ensure that the Cup cannot be turned into a Portkey. We will have to do that as close to the Third Task as possible, lest Crouch finds out and manages to remove any protection. However, this does not mean I will refrain from taking action. I intend to contact Madam Bones about this. If we are lucky, a group of Hit Wizards may be able to take out Voldemort and his snake familiar, as well as rescue Winky."

"Winky? Oh, Barty Crouch Senior's House Elf. So she is with Voldemort?"

"According to Baum's memories, reluctantly. She is immensely loyal to Barty Crouch Junior and Senior, but not Voldemort. Of course, even if we do manage to stop Voldemort forever, Harry will still have to compete in the Tournament. And as Bagman demonstrated, he has a somewhat skewed vision of what is safe. Mr Diggory is lucky he was treated promptly for his burns. The Second Task will hopefully be a better change of pace: underwater is still not safe, but at least the Merpeople will help anyone in serious trouble."

"Yes, and I have already received word from Bagman that he wants to use Gabrielle as a hostage. Fleur will be beside herself, and it's only your personal reassurance, Professor, that has me agreeing to this."

"I understand, Hercule. We are still deciding the hostage line-up for the other three contestants. I intend to use the Yule Ball to help determine them, although I am considering using one of Harry's friends as the hostage he has to rescue. I wish Bagman didn't put in that horrid poem, though. Motivation is one thing, but making the Champions believe that their hostage will be dead if they don't reach them is another…"

* * *

Fleur felt a chill run down her spine as she recalled the strange song. She had been in the bath of the Beauxbatons carriage, dressed in her swimsuit, and dipping her head beneath the water. That song was bloody ominous, to say the least. Now, she was making her way into the castle, hoping to encounter one of her fellow Champions at breakfast before classes.

Audrey and Marie had been spot-on. It had been Mermish. According to the song, the singers (who couldn't sing 'above the ground', or rather, above the surface) would take something of value, and they had an hour to retrieve it before it was lost. Fleur didn't know what they meant by that, but something about that gave her the chills. She also now knew that her apparently paranoid fears of a task in the Black Lake were now founded, and once more, she cursed Bagman.

She wouldn't tell her fellow Champions all of that. Rather, she would tell them to drown the eggs, listen to them while they were submerged. From there, they had to formulate their own strategies for going underwater. Fleur didn't know that many. She wasn't confident at Transfiguring her body into something aquatic. At the moment, her best bet was to use a Bubble-Head Charm. She also needed to find out what creatures lived in the Black Lake. Merpeople seemed like a sure possibility, but she needed to know what others. Maybe some of the Ravenclaws she dined with may know. Especially the Lovegood girl: her father was some sort of cryptozoologist, and maybe Luna knew about the creatures beneath the surface.

The first of her fellow Champions she encountered was Krum. Thankfully, he was alone, and she said, quietly, "The secret of the Golden Egg is to submerge it, then open it."

After a moment, the sullen young man nodded. "Thank you." He then walked away.

She soon found Cedric in the Great Hall, and after gesturing the Hufflepuff over to semi-privacy, she told him the same thing. He nodded. "Is Harry down yet?" Fleur asked.

"No, not yet. It was a pretty exhausting day yesterday," Cedric said, touching the side of his face that got burned. It was almost completely healed, with only a slight red tinge to it showing he even got burnt. "I heard he did pretty well with his broom. I wouldn't have expected anything less. I've played against him. I should've thought of that myself."

"That is what Krum said too," Fleur said. "Three Seekers, and only one of you flew. Then again, Harry's repertoire of spells is limited, _n'est-ce pas?_ "

Cedric chuckled slightly. "I'm glad he did well. You were worried about him, weren't you?"

" _Naturellement_ ," Fleur said. "I will be telling him about the Golden Egg. I told Krum. As much as I hate Karkaroff and his biased scoring, Krum is not party to it. Given that we nearly fought a dragon blind, I want to get through this intact, as well as Harry. And I want all of the Champions to be on an even footing. That way, we win based on our individual skill. I do not think my family, or Harry, would forgive me if I kept the information from you."

"Thanks," Cedric said sincerely. "By the way, Rita Skeeter's been hanging around lately."

Fleur nodded. She and Harry, along with Krum, had encountered the odious woman yesterday, along with Harry's friends, Ron and Hermione. He had, albeit reluctantly, offered some answers to her questions, as had Fleur and Krum. Better to give her something than blow her off and have her make up some obscene lie. "She is like a bad smell."

Cedric nodded, chuckling a little. "By the way, you've got anyone for the Yule Ball?" He then flung up his hands in a placatory gesture. "Hey, I'm not asking you out. I've got a girlfriend of my own. Cho'd kill me if I asked you out. And I'm pretty sure you've got someone else in mind."

Ah, yes. The Yule Ball. She had almost forgotten what Madame Maxime had told her. And Cedric was right, she did have someone in mind. She nodded. "I'll ask him when I tell him."

"Right. Thanks for the help, Fleur." And with that, Cedric went back to the Hufflepuff table. And shortly afterwards, Harry came in, his friends in tow.

Fleur was immediately upon him, and took him aside briefly. "A couple of things, _mon ami_ , I need to tell you. Firstly, a hint about that Golden Egg: you need to open it when it is submerged. I will let you figure out the rest on your own."

Harry, after a moment, nodded. "Got it. And the other thing?"

"The Yule Ball is coming up. The Champions are expected to open the Yule Ball with their partners. And I was hoping…" She was struck by an unaccustomed nervousness. "I was hoping you would be my partner, _mon ami_."

A smile bloomed across Harry's face. "Of course! I'd love to, Fleur! Thank you! I mean, _merci beaucoup!_ "

Fleur giggled softly. "Well then, I think that is settled. It would be better to have you as a dance partner than some imbecile who keeps drooling and staring at my body."

"Well, it's a very beautiful body," Harry said, before he flinched, embarrassed that he had said that out loud.

Fleur, however, merely giggled again, and said, "Go and have some breakfast, _mon ami_. You will need it for your classes today."

As Harry nodded and walked to the Gryffindor table, Fleur had to admit, the classes at Hogwarts were a mixed bag. She loved Charms and Transfiguration, with the teachers being excellent. DADA was good too, though she had heard, from her father and from Harry, about the variable teaching quality due to a new teacher every year. Potions…she enjoyed the actual subject, but the teacher, the greasy-haired and snide Professor Snape, was another matter. Especially as he seemed to hold a grudge towards Harry, and favour the Slytherins.

Fleur didn't like the physical aspect of Herbology, all the potting and digging, though she liked the plants, and the teacher, Professor Sprout, was a nice person. History, however, was abysmal, the one subject that was undeniably far inferior at Hogwarts compared to Beauxbatons. It was taught by a ghost, and a very boring one at that, who seemed to talk more about Goblin rebellions than any other subject. Arithmancy was a bit tedious, but in a way that made you want to work through it anyway, as it was a useful subject. The same for Ancient Runes.

Fleur had been considering what she would do once she graduated from Beauxbatons. She had considered following her father's original path into the French DMLE, but given how he left it, she wasn't so sure now. Going into the French Ministry didn't appeal to her either. And considering her growing bond with Harry, she wanted to try something a bit more international. Something interesting.

Of late, she had been considering becoming a Cursebreaker. At the Quidditch World Cup, she had gotten into a conversation with Bill Weasley (a man who was definitely the pick of that family, she felt) about his job at Gringotts, and Fleur had to admit, it was an intriguing prospect. And after that whole business with that thing removed from Harry's scar, she found a personal reason to get involved. Dangerous work, but rewarding work, Bill Weasley had said.

Maybe she could persuade Harry to consider that. Then, she remembered he didn't do Ancient Runes and Arithmancy. You needed those subjects to go into Cursebreaking. Damn. But there were other careers he could try.

Of course, he was still only 14. He had a while to go before he considered his career. He had school to worry about, not to mention a possible revival of Voldemort hanging over him like some Sword of Damocles. But Fleur would be by his side. That much she was certain of…

 **CHAPTER 14 ANNOTATIONS:**

 **Next chapter, the Yule Ball! The thoughts of Fleur about the various subjects were based on reviews by Sean Malloy-1, who wanted to hear Fleur's thoughts on them.**

 **BTW, what was Fleur's job at Gringotts? As far as I can tell, it's never stated in canon. I thought it'd be interesting that she decides to become a Cursebreaker. I considered Harry becoming one, until I realised he didn't have the right subjects under his belt.**

 **Incidentally, _In Spite of Obstinate Men_ , which remains my most-viewed fic, has just reached 300K views! _In Spite of Appearances_ is still at a relatively measly 80K views, not even in the top five.**

 **Oh, and keep in mind that the next chapter won't be out until the next big update, later this month.**

 **Review-answering time! I'm glad you guys loved the different POV on the First Task. I thought that would go down well.**

 **ObsessedWithHPFanfic** **: There's probably one out there, where he faces another dragon, but I don't know any offhand.**

 **ArturiusRex8** **: My source is Suetonius, via Wikipedia.**

 **Guest** **: (regarding Baum under the Imperius) As with Crouch and Moody, Dumbledore and Hercule are biding their time. If Baum has the curse removed at the wrong time, she'll give the game away to Crouch. You'll be pleased to know, though, that when they learn of her taking ill during the Yule Ball, they promptly free her from it, and make their plans to stop Voldemort and Crouch. I've written the first part of that particular chapter. Baum isn't happy about it, but she understands, albeit grudgingly (and understandably so).**

 **TOWTWUKER** **: She is a quarter Veela. Her mother is half-Veela.**

 **diagonalpumpkin** **: I think that, given that it's a competition, it talks up cooperation, but is more about competing. The Champions cooperating in this story is partly a knock-on effect of Harry and Fleur being closer, as well as the coincidence of Fleur meeting Krum during the Quidditch World Cup. They actually have bonds which mean they give a crap, and because Harry managed to defuse much of the potential animosity by agreeing to testify under Veritaserum that he didn't enter, they're on better terms because of that.**

 **No numbered annotations this time.**


	16. Chapter 15: It's a Godawful Small Affair

**CHAPTER 15:**

 **IT'S A GODAWFUL SMALL AFFAIR…**

Fleur looked at herself in the mirror. The silvery-grey satin dress robes were of a Veela make, a gift from her grandmother. She looked absolutely beautiful. Now, if only she could make her anxiety go away. After all, having Harry as a partner would effectively make their relationship completely and utterly public. True, it had been something of an open secret up until now, but the Yule Ball would make it irrefutable. And Fleur wasn't sure she was ready for that. Harry Potter, after all, was one of the most famous wizards in the world alive, and around his age, as far as she knew, only Viktor Krum could be said to be as famous, or more so. At least Krum's fame was on his own merits, whereas Harry was painfully aware that his fame was for something he himself didn't do, or couldn't do.

Still, Harry had the potential to approach what his reputation gave him. Seeing how well he did in the First Task confirmed that, and she knew he had a strong will. After all, seeing how he reacted to her allure on full blast had her realise that. And he had faced a Basilisk. A _Basilisk_. A massive snake with venom that killed almost anything, and a lethal gaze that, if you were lucky enough to look at it indirectly, only petrified you. And, of course, he had told her that he was a Parselmouth. Unlike many, Fleur was willing to believe that Parselmouths weren't automatically evil.

In any case, Fleur, normally the epitome of self-confidence, found herself anxious. Anxious that this evening would go without a hitch…or at least a minimum.

Audrey had opted to go with Ron, while Marie chose Ron's older brother, George Weasley, the two having had talks about Quidditch. Hermione had apparently chosen to go with Viktor Krum. Krum had taken to going in the library to avoid his fangirls, and had become, if not smitten, then mildly enamoured with the girl who didn't care about his fame in Quidditch.

Of course, given that it was Christmas, there had been an exchange of gifts. Fleur didn't know how Harry got it, but he got her a gift voucher for one of the most exclusive magical fashion stores in Paris. And an expensive one to boot, though given the price tags on many items there, it needed to be.

Her own gift, by comparison, was relatively paltry. It was still expensive, though. She had asked Madam Pomfrey to give her a complete listing of Harry's vision problems. Even now, Harry had to make do with rather poor Muggle glasses that weren't even at his prescription. Now, not only did he have two pairs, but they had magical enhancements. Audrey had a similar pair herself. They could even zoom, and have night-vision. They had everything that would be allowed to be used in a school…though he would have to use his normal glasses for the Tournament. He had thanked her profusely earlier in the day.

" _It's a godawful small affair, to the girl with the mousy hair_ ," Marie sang softly to herself in English as she applied her makeup. " _Her mummy is yelling no, but her daddy has told her to go. But her friend is nowhere to be seen, and so she's stuck with her sunken dreams_ …"

" _What is that song, Marie?_ " Fleur asked in French.

"Life on Mars _by David Bowie_ ," Marie said. " _Say what you like about the British, Muggle or magical, but they've produced a lot of good musicians._ " She began humming the rest of the song.

" _David Bowie…isn't he the one who played that Goblin King in that film?_ " Fleur asked.

" _Yeah_ , Labyrinth. _By the way, whaddya reckon that idiot Bagman's going to do for the Second Task? I mean, he already had you facing bloody dragons for the First Task. I don't care what that dickhead said about things being safer than previous years, they were bloody_ _ **dragons!**_ _And you're doing it underwater. What's he gonna do, get a bunch of sharks with fricking laser beams strapped to their heads and let them loose in the lake?_ "

Fleur chuckled bitterly. " _At this point, I wouldn't be surprised. I heard there's a Giant Squid in there. I don't know how it could be in there, I thought they lived in the ocean._ " Fleur checked herself carefully in the mirror. " _I'm ready. How about you?_ "

" _Nearly done. Unlike you, I need a little time to pretty myself up_ ," Marie said.

Shortly afterwards, the two girls were ready, and came out to find Audrey doing the same. She cleaned up quite well, did Audrey. And then, they went to the exit of the Beauxbatons carriage to find that Harry, Ron, and George were waiting, all snazzy. Ron had apparently been bought new dress robes for this occasion by Sirius Black, despite the objections of Ron's mother.

"Would you do us the honour of coming to the Yule Ball with us?" George asked, taking the lead, and offering a crooked elbow, something Harry and Ron matched. And the three French girls took them.

* * *

They were soon waiting in the Entrance Hall. Fleur had to admit, she was impressed by how well Hermione cleaned up. She could tell that Harry and Ron were astonished as well. Ron also seemed annoyed that Hermione was partnered with Viktor Krum. Fleur felt nervous, and she knew that Harry was. They were debuting publicly as a couple, and they knew there'd be ripples from this for a long time to come.

Then, the doors swung open, and the four Champions and their partners entered the Great Hall. Fleur had to admit, the new décor was interesting. Not a patch on Beauxbatons, and she wished she was there for Christmas, but she hoped this would work out.

They approached the top table. Fleur frowned when she realised that Baum wasn't there. Bagman and the Headmasters of the schools were, but instead, there was Percy Weasley. Harry and Fleur sat down next to him, and he said, as if he was now the King of France, "I've been promoted. I'm now Madam Baum's personal assistant, and I am here representing her."

"Is she unwell?" Fleur asked.

"No, not well at all, I'm sad to say," Percy said. "Hasn't been right since the World Cup. Overwork, I'd say, filling Mr Crouch's shoes." He seemed actually rather saddened by it.

"You like her, don't you?" Harry asked.

"Of course! And unfortunately, between the World Cup and this Tournament and that dreadful Rita Skeeter buzzing around, well, she's trying to have a quiet Christmas, I daresay. I am honoured that she thinks I am reliable enough to take her place."

Fleur felt a bit of disquiet at that. True, Baum had looked stressed and overworked, but even so, it must've been bad for her to suddenly drop out.

As the dinner began, Krum waxed lyrical to Hermione about Durmstrang. He was being unusually enthusiastic about it. Then, Karkaroff cut Krum off, claiming to prevent people from knowing where Durmstrang was. Fleur found that odd, though Dumbledore's anecdote of a room filled with chamberpots was amusing.

Fleur said to Harry, "You know, I truly prefer the décor at Beauxbatons. I miss the ice sculptures we would have at Christmas, all around the Dining Chamber. They do not melt, of course. They are like huge statues of diamond, glittering around the place. And a choir of wood-nymphs to serenade us as we eat."

"Hogwarts is wonderful," Harry said. "I know what you're saying, and I saw Beauxbatons through the mirror, but even so…"

"Sentimental value, I am sure," Fleur said. "Though one thing I am sure we can agree on is that you should not have a poltergeist in this castle. If Peeves ever entered Beauxbatons, he would be expelled like _that!_ " She snapped her fingers for emphasis.

"I'm sure if you had Peeves, you wouldn't find it so easy to evict him," Harry remarked.

"That is because you do not have Veela in Hogwarts," Fleur said. "A well-placed fireball, and he will find it hard to sit down."

* * *

Soon, the meal had finished, and it was time for the dance, the Weird Sisters (none of whom were women, oddly enough) taking their place to do the music. As she guided him to the dance floor, Fleur said quietly to Harry, "Just follow my lead, _mon ami_."

He nodded. And she had to admit, for an amateur, he was pretty good. Apparently Professor McGonagall had done some basic dancing lessons, and Harry managed to avoid stepping on Fleur's feet. As the dancing continued, his assurance grew, as did Fleur's. She noted that the other Champions were quite good dancers too. Then, Moody passed by with the Astronomy teacher, Aurora Sinistra. "Nice socks, Potter," he remarked, looking at Harry's feet.

"Oh, yeah. Dobby knitted them for me," Harry said.

"Do not peek anywhere you should not with that eye, _pervers_ ," Fleur said with a glare at the DADA teacher that promised fireballs in intimate places if he dared.

Moody laughed at that. Then, the next song came up, a more upbeat one. Fleur saw that Harry was flagging, and then said, "One more dance, _mon ami_. Then we can rest and mingle."

He nodded, and rallied magnificently. Eventually, the song ended, and they walked over to where Ron and Audrey were talking about various games that they had played, as well as games Ron should try. "…and you think I would like this _Dungeons and Dragons?_ "

" _Oui_. It is…more difficult than chess. It is like…oh, what is term?"

" _Dungeons and Dragons_ is like a mixture of a very complicated chess with improvisational theatre," Hermione said as she came over, having heard part of the conversation. "I have an old set myself, Ron." She fanned herself with a hand. "It's hot, isn't it? Viktor's just gone to get some drinks."

"Viktor?" Ron asked in disbelief. "Has he asked you to call him Vicky yet?"

"Ron, leave it," Harry said.

"But she's fraternising with the enemy! Krum's from Durmstrang, competing against Harry, against Hogwarts!" Then, Ron realised he had put his foot in his mouth. Again. After all, he was fraternising with a Beauxbatons student, and Harry and Fleur were fraternising.

" _Merci_ , Ronald Weasley, for the reminder," Fleur said archly. "The Tournament is meant to promote better relations between our schools, _n'est-ce pas?_ And you were fraternising quite well with Audrey."

"And honestly, Ron, who was the one who was all excited when Viktor arrived in the first place?" Hermione pointed out. "Who wanted his autograph? Who has a model of him in his dormitory?"

"Krum is a gentleman, Ronald," Fleur said. "I met him at the World Cup. It is Karkaroff you should be worried about more than Krum."

"But what if he wants her help to figure out what the Golden Egg means?" Ron asked.

"He does not need Hermione. I told him what to do with it after I figured it out, as well as Harry and Cedric. It means that the Champions are on an equal footing, though how we go about the Second Task is up to us," Fleur said. She sighed heavily, annoyed at the redhead's presumptions, before she said to Harry, "I need some air. I need to cool down before I lose my temper."

* * *

The two of them walked outside, Fleur taking care to cast a Warming Charm to counteract the winter chill. They walked through a rose garden, where ornaments and fairy lights dotted the area, and people were sitting on benches. As they moved further in, they heard a familiar and unpleasant voice, the distinctive rich, resonant nasal tones of Snape. "…don't see what the problem is, Igor."

"Severus, you can't pretend this isn't happening," the furtive voice of Karkaroff urged, trying to keep his voice down and failing in what seemed like growing panic. "It's been getting clearer and clearer for months! It's worrying me, I can't deny it, and neither can you!"

"Then flee, Igor. I will make your excuses. But I will remain at Hogwarts, and…" The two turned the corner near Fleur and Harry. Suddenly, Snape whipped out his wand and fired a spell at a rose bush. As a boy and a girl fled, Snape snarled, "Fawcett, Stebbins, ten points each from Hufflepuff and Ravenclaw!" Noticing Harry and Fleur, he then demanded, "And what are you two doing?"

"Fleur needed some air," Harry said. "We're going for a walk."

Snape glared at Harry for some time, before nodding curtly. "Then keep walking!" he snapped.

Once some distance had been put between them, Harry muttered, "What was that all about?"

"I do not know, _mon ami_ , but Snape and Karkaroff are former Death Eaters. My father told me this. Something has Karkaroff worried." Suddenly, they came to a reindeer statue, a fountain nearby. Fleur realised that Madame Maxime and Hagrid were sitting on a bench nearby. "Harry," she hissed urgently, halting him.

Then, she heard Hagrid and Maxime talking. Hagrid was admitting to Maxime that he was half-Giant…and that he knew she was too. Fleur quietly groaned: her Headmistress' heritage was a sore point with her. She noticed a particularly large beetle on the fountain, a rather colourful one, and thought that odd, given that it was winter.

"Harry, come with me now," Fleur said, bringing him away. She sat him down on a bench not far from there. "Your Hagrid needs to learn some tact."

"Why? What's the big deal with him having a Giant for a mother?" Harry asked quietly.

"Remember, what our world considers half-breeds, they consider less than human, _mon ami_ ," Fleur said quietly. "And Giants…most if not all are invariably brutes who revel in killing. So if their heritage became publicly known…"

Harry's eyes widened in realisation. "And with Rita Skeeter sniffing around…"

" _Oui_. It would be a serious scandal if she found out."

"She was at Hagrid's Care of Magical Creatures class," Harry mused as a large beetle, looking like the same one Fleur had seen at the fountain, flew over to a nearby bush. "She was digging up dirt, I'd bet."

" _Oui_. As you can imagine, once it comes out about us…"

"Well, we'll weather it together, right?" Harry asked. "I mean, it's not like you haven't dealt with it before, being part-Veela, and with your father being famous. And I have to deal with the fame of being the Boy Who Lived." He spat the phrase out bitterly. "But…we're together, right? I'm lucky to have someone like you. Beautiful, smart, and with a wonderful heart." He blinked. "Did that just rhyme?"

Fleur couldn't help it. She laughed. "At least you take me as I am, _mon chéri_." She realised she had said that a little too late. _Mon chéri_. She had called him that. My darling. _My love_.

And Harry seemed to realise it. He turned to her, staring at her, gaping a little.

Eventually, Fleur admitted, "Harry… _je t'aime_. I think…I think I truly love you."

What a stupid, fatuous thing to say! What a silly thing to simply blurt out! As Harry stared at her, gaping even more, she realised she had screwed up. But as she stood, he grasped her hand, not strongly, but enough for the action to halt her. "Wait, Fleur!" He stood as well, and gently turned her to face him. "Fleur…I think… _je t'aime aussi_." _I love you too_. Three words in halting French. He reciprocated. Perhaps a little foolishly, but…at least she hadn't messed up completely.

With a soft cry, she embraced him, looking at him with a smile. Then, their faces inched closer. Lips brushed against lips, and then hormones and lust took over. They had kissed before, lip to lip, but this was definitely _rouler une pelle_ , a deep kiss with tongues playing around within their mouths. Slow and lustful. An expression of their deepening bond.

After a time, they broke it off, and Fleur said, " _Joyeux Noël, mon chéri._ "

" _Joyeux Noël, mon chéri_ ," Harry echoed back, before their mouths joined once more. Their problems, for the moment, were forgotten as they kissed in the dark garden. Nothing was on their minds at this moment, not the Tournament, not the press, just each other, a mutual enjoyment of each other, lust and love intertwining. This was as far as they would go at the moment…but in truth, that was all that mattered. An exchange of feelings more precious than any physical gift, on a cold and beautiful Christmas night…

 **CHAPTER 15 ANNOTATIONS:**

 **Well, here you go. The Yule Ball, plus some snogging. Sorry if it's crap, I'm not that good at it. I had to think hard about what sort of Christmas gifts Harry and Fleur would get each other. Harry got Sirius to get the voucher. And sorry about the** ** _Life on Mars_** **lyrics. I'm on a Bowie kick at the moment, I'm finding it a bit hard to help.**

 **Next chapter: Rita Skeeter blowing the lid off the relationship. Keep in mind that it'll be a while before the next chapter.**

 **Review-answering time!** **Katzztar** **: That's a fair point. I might look into that. And given Harry's fame, I realised the Goblins might help fund any courses Harry needs to catch up. Hiring him might be a publicity coup for them, after all…**

 **No numbered annotations.**


	17. Chapter 16: Poison Pen

**CHAPTER 16:**

 **POISON PEN**

In her home, Boxing Day morning, Baum had her head in her hands, her hair dishevelled, her face haggard. Dumbledore and Hercule had decided to make their move the previous night when they learned that Baum had been confined to her home from illness. They believed that Voldemort had ordered her to do so, something she confirmed when they broke her free of the Imperius Curse. That in itself had been a delicate operation, something that, if done improperly, could break the controlled person's mind. "To think, those bastards were controlling me. Why didn't you do anything about it before?"

"As much as it galled me to allow you to remain in such a state," Dumbledore said, "we needed to ensure that neither Crouch nor Voldemort were alerted. Given that you've been confined to your home due to ill health, we thought it the best time to act, while you were away from either of them. Please forgive me for using Legilimency on your mind to discern the details of their plan, but…"

Baum waved a hand impatiently. "I'll let it slide, Dumbledore. I'm not happy about it, but considering the circumstances…have you alerted Madam Bones about Voldemort?"

"Yes. I have asked them to wait until some business at Gringotts has been attended to. Thankfully, the Goblins have finally seen fit to accede to our request. Once that is over and done with, the DMLE will send Hit-Wizards to Little Hangleton. The sooner, the better."

Baum nodded, grimacing. "That hideous little creature he is inhabiting…some sort of homunculus. Dumbledore, you can't let him live! I know you have that thing for redemption, but Voldemort…he may have been born a man, but he's a monster. I say that without reservation. And Crouch…whether he joined in with the Lestranges or not when they tortured the Longbottoms, I don't know, but he's utterly evil now. The things he made me do, just because he could…" Baum shuddered at some memory she didn't want to recall. "And the things he said he intends to do to Harry's friends…like your daughter, Hercule, and the Granger girl, and the Weasleys…I don't know whether he deserved Azkaban in the first place, but he certainly deserves to go back there."

"We will do what we can," Hercule said. "Take Crouch and Voldemort out in one fell swoop, as you English put it."

Before he could say anything else, though, a Patronus in the shape of a cat appeared, and in McGonagall's voice, it said, " _Albus? We have a problem_ …"

* * *

 **HARRY POTTER, ENSNARED BY VEELA ALLURE?**

 _The Tri-Wizard Tournament, already a farce due to the unprecedented selection of Harry Potter as a fourth Champion, has reached new heights of controversy. It seems that the Champion of Beauxbatons, Fleur Delacour, has resorted to unseemly measures to gain an edge in the competition, by seducing Harry Potter._

 _Miss Delacour, aged 17, is the daughter of former French Auror Mr Hercule Delacour and half-Veela Mrs Apolline Delacour. Mr Delacour left the French Department of Magical Law Enforcement in disgrace after a violent altercation with a colleague who was bringing attention to the possibility that Apolline Delacour may have used her Veela allure to ensnare him. It seems that history is repeating itself, with Harry the latest victim of this miscegenous line._

 _Sources indicate that the Delacours and Harry first met during the Sirius Black fiasco last year, where Hercule Delacour proved the innocence of Sirius Black. It seems, however, that Miss Delacour has taken advantage of this tenuous connection to gain an unfair edge over the other Champions, or at the very least, Harry himself. And it seems that her hold over him is now complete, breaking the hearts of young witches across Britain. Sources at the Yule Ball have seen them engaged in an act of lust, an act that only serves to confirm that she has ensnared him with her Veela allure_ …

Harry couldn't read any more. If he read a word more of this shit, he was going to be sick to his stomach. Remus had handed him a copy of _The Daily Prophet_ , looking pale as he did so. Even now, he could hear the whispers. Fleur was looking mortified at the Ravenclaw table. "An act of lust…" Harry muttered in disgust. "We had a nice, long kiss, that was it."

"Which means technically, Skeeter is telling the truth," Hermione said as she looked over the article. "But of course, she chose her words in such a way that they thought you were doing something worse. _Bitch_." It was rare for Hermione to swear, so Harry knew that she'd been pissed off when she hissed the expletive. She looked further down the front page, and groaned. "And there's another one on Hagrid! He's…half-Giant? What's wrong with that?!" she hissed.

"I'm going to use an Enlargement Charm on Skeeter's quill, and shove it somewhere very painful," Harry said too quietly and too calmly. "She will have to open her mouth to write anything." His eyes met those of Fleur, and he smiled in what he hoped was a reassuring way. She flashed him a smile back, albeit a shaky one, before returning to her meal, picking at it.

* * *

Care of Magical Creatures had been taken over by Professor Grubbly-Plank, who wouldn't answer questions about Hagrid. The Slytherins looked smug, or at least Draco Malfoy's little inner circle did, and a few Gryffindors even thought that Grubbly-Plank was a better teacher, much to the ire of Harry and his friends.

At lunch, Fleur joined the others at the Gryffindor table, Audrey, Marie, and Luna in tow. "I knew this would happen, but this…I was not actually ready for this," Fleur said quietly. "I am sorry about this, Harry."

"What for? It's Skeeter who's done this."

Ginny, who was sitting nearby, said, "Yeah, but they're making Fleur out to be a scarlet woman. Don't get me wrong, I'm jealous that you managed to snag Harry, but this? Mum's going to read it, she'll probably send you a Howler."

"She wouldn't dare," Harry protested. "Would she?"

"She might," Ron said. "Fleur made a decent impression on Mum, but even so, she laps up what Skeeter writes, and you know she thinks of herself as your Mum."

"I will send her one right back if she does," Fleur said coldly. She opened her mouth to say more, only for owls to come in, some heading for Fleur. A bunch of letters were dropped on the table in front of her, including at least one Howler. She paled, before she took her wand out. She then cast a charm.

"What're you doing, Fleur?" Harry asked.

" _Papa_ taught me charms used to check mail for any curses, jinxes, hexes, even booby-traps," Fleur said. She then glared at one letter, and swore in French. "Bubotuber pus!" she snarled, picking up the envelope and incinerating it.

Ginny looked aghast. "Bubotuber pus? That stuff is painful! Makes you break out in boils when its undiluted."

"There is a curse on this one," Fleur said, incinerating another envelope. She then glared at the smoking Howler. "And as for you…" She opened it, then upended a bowl over it, barely muffled shrieks sounding from underneath as she kept it down. " _Ferme ta gueule!_ " she snarled quietly.

Hermione gasped, a little scandalised at Fleur's French expletive. Fleur then looked askance at Hermione. "I will worry about my manners a little later, Hermione. I am a little…how you say? Frazzled."

"Frazzled? You look downright furious!" Ron exclaimed.

"Umm, Fleur? Your feathers are showing," Marie said.

And so they were. Fleur's anger was causing her to partially transform into her harpy form, feathers growing along her arms, her fingernails turning into talons. "Not now, Marie!" Fleur hissed.

Eventually, the muffled shrieking of the Howler finished, and Fleur lifted the bowl off it. "My father has had to deal with Howlers before," she said, the feathers receding back into her arms. "At breakfast, if one has oatmeal or porridge, one should smother the Howler in that. If you do not mind wasting a meal, anyway."

Fred and George looked at each other, before Fred said, "We should have thought of that before(1)."

"That wasn't our mum, though," George remarked. "We'd be able to tell, even through a bowl."

"Thank Merlin for small mercies," Ginny murmured to herself.

Fleur then began opening the various letters that she had opened. She sneered at most, and threw them onto a pile. Eventually, though, she found another one that had her blinking in surprise. "It seems that not all of this is hate mail. I have someone writing to encourage us…oh. It seems your mother has decided to be nice about this."

"You must've made a really good impression on her, then, or maybe Dad calmed her down before he headed to work," Ginny said.

"Thank Merlin for small mercies," Fleur murmured.

* * *

As it turned out, there were a few more letters of encouragement, amongst the hate mail and death threats. Fleur tucked them away, before setting the other letters on fire. In the remaining fifteen minutes of the lunch break, she quickly got Harry and Hermione, along with Audrey, into an empty classroom.

"I think that Rita Skeeter somehow managed to overhear us in the garden," Fleur said. "My father taught me a little of his profession, and I want to think of some ideas, just in case we need to stop her from doing something like this again. He has hurt me, Harry, Madame Maxime, and your Hagrid. We saw nobody other than Hagrid and Maxime, and although it was night-time, the rose garden was fairly well lit. While it is an assumption that it was Skeeter in there, and not someone else eavesdropping, I would put money on Skeeter being there. So, any thoughts?"

"Disillusionment Charm?" Audrey asked.

"Or a Notice Me Not Charm," Fleur said.

"Invisibility Cloak," Harry said.

"Possible, but they are very expensive. Though Skeeter may be able to afford them, given her income from stories that sell a lot of publications."

Hermione frowned, before something occurred to her. "She may be an Animagus. Unregistered too, or people'd be more wary about her. She'd probably transform into something people normally wouldn't look twice at."

At Hermione's words, Fleur's eyes widened, before she looked at Harry. " _Mon chéri_ …remember that beetle we saw?"

"Well, yes, but…wait, are you telling me it was Rita Skeeter?" Harry asked.

"It was a cold night. It was a rather gaudy beetle for this part of Scotland. And it was there when Hagrid spoke to Maxime, and when we kissed. I am not saying that the beetle is definitely her. That is a foolish assumption to hold to. But it is the best lead we have. And she may be around for the foreseeable future."

"Like a literal bugging," Hermione said. "Eavesdropping and writing that awful stuff. If we spot her, what do we do?"

"Capture her, but do not harm her. Just put her into a jar or something, and take her to my father as soon as you can. He knows how to check if an animal is an Animagus. Harry and I saw that beetle. We will keep an eye out. Thank you, Audrey and Hermione."

As Audrey and Hermione left, Harry then said, "Well, we've hit the first hurdle, haven't we?"

" _Oui_. I am sorry I nearly lost my temper, _mon chéri_."

"It wasn't your fault, it was Rita's. Anyway, I told you, you still look kind of attractive when transformed, remember?" A scowl came over his face. "Not like those Veela mascots at the Quidditch World Cup."

Fleur chuckled ruefully. " _Merci_. But we had better get going. Otherwise, people will start to talk."

"They've been doing nothing but that since the article," Harry muttered. "Never mind talking about me since my parents died. What else is new?"

"We will get through this, _mon chéri_." She hugged Harry.

"Yeah. We will, _mon chéri_ ," he echoed, before they reluctantly separated, and made their way to their classes…

* * *

Dumbledore watched them leave the classroom, Hercule by his side, smiling. Ah, young love. And this little trial hadn't caused them to push away, but rather, had only strengthened their resolve.

What was the old saying? Better to have loved and lost, than to have never loved at all. Dumbledore knew all too well the bittersweet truth of that saying. Grindlewald, a man he had loved, turned into a bitter enemy. Now Grindlewald wasted away within his own prison of Nurmengard. And Dumbledore? His responsibilities at Hogwarts, and to Harry Potter, were a somewhat more metaphysical prison. A punishment for the sins of his earlier life.

What punishment awaited him for his later sins? Of him still emulating Grindlewald's 'Greater Good' philosophy, even if to a much lesser degree? He was willing to bear that, but at least he didn't have to hide anymore. Not from Harry. Not from the boy whose life he had stage-managed to a degree. Soon, very soon, Harry would be able to live the life he should lead, one wholly of his own choice, free from Voldemort, and from Dumbledore too. And Dumbledore was glad of it.

"I am glad," Hercule said quietly as he watched his daughter and Harry parted ways, for the moment. "This will be the first real trial of their relationship, and they are doing very well. But that Skeeter woman has much to answer for."

"People love to read about their hero," Dumbledore said sagely. "Sadly, many would love to see his fall, even those not aligned with the darker parts of our society. The Muggles have a plethora of terms for that: crab bucket mentality, tall poppy syndrome, the Law of Jante…it is best that Harry tries to remain true to what he is. Even without his being seen as a hero, he is still a most extraordinary boy. We saw that in the First Task. Now, we had better assure that he has a future, Hercule…and that your daughter has a long and happy one with him…"

 **CHAPTER 16 ANNOTATIONS:**

 **Here you go. While it may be some time before the next chapter, possible inspiration notwithstanding, the next chapter will have the DMLE raiding Little Hangleton, and Barty Crouch Junior's capture. Then again, the best-laid plans go aft agley…**

 **And Fleur and Harry may have figured out Rita's secret, with help from Hermione and Audrey. Now, keep in mind that they don't know Rita's an Animagus for sure, but they suspect it strongly.**

 **By the way, Fleur's words, when she's muffling the Howler, is a rather stronger version of "Shut the hell up!" in French. I think I can just get away with it with this rating. Let's face it, most of my readership would probably not know most French expletives.**

 **Oh, and this fic is over 90K views! By the time I post the next chapter, it'll probably be over 100K views.**

 **1\. Harry does this to a Howler from Molly Weasley, upending a bowl of oatmeal onto it, in** ** _Banking on Her_** **by robst. The Weasley twins' reaction is similar.**


	18. Chapter 17: Repurcussions and

**CHAPTER 17:**

 **REPURCUSSIONS AND PREPARATIONS**

In almost every respect, the operation had been a success, save for one: Voldemort and his familiar were still at large. This was partly thanks to Winky, who had been ordered by her master to defend Voldemort, no matter what, and partly because Voldemort had been savvy enough to have an exit strategy. The Auror squad had erected anti-Apparition and anti-Portkey wards, but Winky had managed to take them down long enough for Voldemort to escape. People still underestimated the powers of House Elves, and it had cost them the opportunity to deal with Voldemort decisively. The best laid plans of mice and men gang aft agley, as they say. What a start to the new year.

Dumbledore chose to count his blessings, for the time being, anyway. Rightfully or not, the DMLE and the Ministry was keeping Voldemort's presence in Britain a secret. Officially, what they wanted the public to look out for was a very dangerous homunculus with ophidian features and powerful magic, created by Voldemort to do his bidding before his defeat. They were warned not to approach, but instead notify the DMLE immediately. Notifying the public that Voldemort was still alive may cause a panic, and might bring some of his supporters to him, possibly scuppering their chances of dealing with him for once and for all.

Even aside from that, Voldemort was down to a single Horcrux, his familiar, with the Cup of Helga Hufflepuff being dealt with by the Goblins shortly before the raid on Little Hangleton. In addition, Barty Crouch Junior was currently in the custody of the DMLE, while the real Mad-Eye Moody was found alive and well in the depths of his trunk. He was far from happy about being captured by Barty Crouch Junior, but agreed to continue teaching the DADA class. And Winky? She was currently in custody as well, wailing and lamenting the bad treatment of her master. Her loyalty was admirable, even when misplaced.

Baum was to return to her duties as one of the officials of the Tri-Wizard Tournament, though she would have to stay for a while at St Mungo's first. And she was to be accompanied by Percy Weasley, who was effectively her PA, along with a couple of Aurors. The official story was that Barty Crouch Junior had attacked her, and the Aurors were her bodyguards. Already, _The Daily Prophet_ had details of Crouch's arrest, and speculation of the link to his father's death the year before.

Unfortunately, it was marred by the fact that Voldemort had left for who knew where, and all they had was speculation. Which was why Moody and Hercule were convening in Dumbledore's office.

"I say he's at Malfoy's," Moody said with a scowl.

"There is not enough evidence, Monsieur Moody," Hercule said. "I agree that Lucius Malfoy is one of the strongest possibilities, if Riddle has indeed sought out one of his former peons to shelter at. But we have no actual evidence."

"I agree with Hercule," Dumbledore said. "Alastor, we simply do not know where Voldemort's gone to, and if he is at Malfoy Manor, then he will be hard to touch. Lucius is a canny political operator who has the ear of the Minister, as you well know. Malfoy Manor would certainly be a good bolthole. And even if we did somehow find evidence, Madam Bones would be unable to obtain a warrant. Fudge would immediately shoot it down. Lucius has been gaining more influence despite the Chamber of Secrets fiasco he had a hand in. No, we'll have to hope that Madam Bones can track Voldemort down. It may be that Voldemort also intends to check on his Horcruxes. I've asked Madam Bones to keep surveillance on the former Gaunt residence in Little Hangleton, and the cave where he originally left the Locket of Salazar Slytherin. He wouldn't dare come to Hogwarts to check on the Diadem, and Gringotts, assuming he knew where Bellatrix put the Cup, would also be out of the question. I would imagine he would try even more to protect his familiar, and not just because it is a Horcrux. Baum and Crouch's testimony suggested that the familiar's venom was used to sustain the homunculus body he currently inhabits."

"Can the ritual still be undertaken?" Hercule asked.

"Yeah," Moody remarked. "He'd just need to get Potter somehow, along with bone from his father's remains. I'd suggest having Amelia keep an eye on wherever Tom Riddle Senior's buried, just in case Voldemort hasn't got it already. Given what the plan was, we'll have to make sure that nobody turns the damned trophy into a Portkey. How's Potter holding up?"

Dumbledore was glad of the change in subject. "He's doing well. I believe he's researching means to swim underwater for protracted periods…"

* * *

Harry blinked as he peered at the textbook in the Gryffindor Common Room. Before heading to breakfast, Harry was complaining to Ron and Hermione about trying to find something to breathe while underwater. He didn't notice that Neville Longbottom was in earshot, until Neville spoke up, and then showed him the text he was reading.

"Gillyweed," Harry murmured.

Hermione was peering over his shoulder. "That could work," she mused. "How long it transforms you for depends on the dose and whether you're in freshwater or saltwater. But in freshwater, about a handful will last for an hour. I'd say you should use a little more, just in case."

"Where can you get this stuff?" Harry asked Neville.

"Umm, in almost any apothecary's," Neville said. "But I was talking about it the other day with Luna."

"The Ravenclaw girl who was with Fleur and the others?" Harry asked.

"Yeah, she's more than a little odd, but she's all right, I guess," Ron said. "Ginny's friends with her. She and her father go on all these trips around the world to look for, well, creatures that don't exist. And some that do."

"She said she used Gillyweed once to visit a Siren colony in the Mediterranean," Neville said. "She might have some that she can owl her father for."

"I'll ask her," Harry said. "Thanks for helping anyway, Nev. I wonder what Fleur's using?"

"I don't know," Hermione said. "There might be useful stuff at NEWT level classes. The thing that worries me is what the song says. You reckon they might take something, or someone."

"That's what worries me, yes."

"But Dumbledore wouldn't do anything to harm anyone, would he?"

"Dumbledore, no, not directly or even intentionally. But Bagman? He set us up against dragons. I mean, there'd be some sort of safety measure, maybe that whole hour limit thing is just the time needed to do the task rather than anything dangerous, but even so…" Harry hoped that the poem was not an omen for the future. He left that bit unspoken. Hopefully, all it was was scare tactics. Because the alternative, where people's lives were involved, was unthinkable…

* * *

" _Gillyweed?_ " Fleur asked Luna, contemplating the package in her hands. " _Why this and not, say, a Bubble-Head Charm?_ "

" _Well, a Bubble-Head Charm has a weakness: it can be popped by something with enough force, and you might not be able to recast it in a panic underwater_ ," Luna said. The two of them were sitting at the Ravenclaw table, along with Marie and Audrey. " _I don't think the Merpeople will do that, but there are Grindylows in the lake, and they can get vicious._ "

Fleur pursed her lips in thought. " _And you're helping me…why?_ "

" _You were nice to me, Fleur. And you don't have many Wrackspurts. Anyway, I think Neville might tell Harry. Daddy has plenty of Gillyweed at home._ "

" _I'll want to test this, I'm not sure how this will interact with me being part-Veela_ ," Fleur murmured. " _I don't think they'll let me swim in the lake, and in any case, it is January, and freezing. I'm not sure the bath in the carriage will be large enough._ "

" _I heard the Hogwarts prefects have their own bathroom_ ," Luna said. " _Maybe you could ask them. The baths are massive from what I heard from Myrtle._ "

Fleur frowned. Wasn't that the ghost who hung around a defunct toilet? " _How does she know?_ "

Luna shrugged. " _She's apparently a bit of a voyeur._ "

Fleur groaned quietly to herself. Some of the ghosts here were appalling. A prankster poltergeist, a boring spectre of a History teacher…and a voyeuristic ghost girl. At least the Grey Lady here at the Ravenclaw table was better-mannered than that. Hell, so was the Gryffindor House ghost, Sir Nicholas. A perfect gentleman.

As she toyed pensively with the Gillyweed, Fleur thought about the past week or so, since her relationship with Harry was exposed. She was still getting hate mail, not to mention more than a few dirty looks. On the other hand, some in Hogwarts and Beauxbatons thought it quite sweet and fitting. Fleur's relationship with Ginny had improved, especially as Fleur had made friends with Luna, who was also Ginny's friend. Luna Lovegood didn't have many friends. That helped keep Ginny and Fleur on good terms, despite Fleur's relationship with Harry, someone Ginny had a crush on. Audrey and Ron, despite his outburst at the Yule Ball, had managed to stay together too, occasionally meeting to play games.

Hagrid had finally been coaxed out of his hut and his depression by Dumbledore, and Madame Maxime, who had managed to weather this storm, was willing to talk to him, though it seemed that romance wasn't really on the table. At least as far as Maxime was concerned, anyway. Hagrid still seemed smitten, albeit in a more subdued way.

Fleur was shaken out of her reverie when Harry came over to Luna and started asking her about Gillyweed. "Did Neville tell you?" Luna asked.

"Yes. May I have some, please?"

Luna smiled. "Okay. But on one condition." After a moment, she said, "Can I be your friend?"

"…Okay?" Harry said, bemused. "I mean, you're friends with Ginny, right?"

"Of course."

"Harry, she is fine. She is just eccentric," Fleur said. "Her…quirks have not won her many friends, that is all, _mon chéri_."

Cho, who had gone over to talk to Cedric at the Hufflepuff table for a moment, came back over not long afterwards. "Fleur?" she said quietly. "I only know a little French, but I caught a little of what you were saying to Luna. I'm sorry for eavesdropping, but I thought I'd help. Cedric said you and Harry could try to use the Prefect bathroom to test the Gillyweed. Fifth floor, fourth door to the left of a statue of Boris the Bewildered. The password is _Pine fresh_. Oh, and if you're going to test Gillyweed, use only the cold water tap. That's the one with the blue coloured handle. Go during the next weekend, you'll have time to work with it instead of sneaking around after curfew. Oh, and be careful of Myrtle. Cedric went in there to decipher his egg, and caught her gawping at him."

" _Merci beaucoup_ , Cho," Fleur said. "I must thank Cedric for his help. I wonder if Viktor has come up with something?"

"I've seen him studying Transfiguration texts in the library," Cho said. "Cedric says he's already got a plan. He's not saying what that is, though. I'm surprised that you and Harry are cooperating, though. Well, your relationship aside, anyway."

"Well, isn't this Tournament about international cooperation?" Harry asked. "Anyway, I'm not Hogwarts' Champion. Cedric is. If I win the Third Task, I'm giving the trophy to whoever comes next. Cedric, Fleur, or Viktor. I have no official part in this."

Fleur nodded in concordance. " _Oui_. I told Cedric and Viktor how to hear the messages in their eggs. That First Task only showed these Tasks are dangerous. While we should formulate our strategies individually, I still think that it best that we know what we are up against. And it is not fair if I only tell Harry."

"Thank you," Cho said, smiling in gratitude. "Both of you."

"Oh, isn't this nice?" Luna cooed. "Group hug! That'll keep the Nargles away!"

It was a surreal and mildly embarrassing experience, Harry reflected, getting glomped by the rather scatterbrained blonde, who brought Fleur and Cho into the embrace. He knew a lot of people were staring at him, and thinking different thoughts. Some thought it sweet, others (Snape especially, he'd bet) would be thinking he was making a spectacle of himself. He also was sure that a few of the others here, given that he was currently crushed between three assorted pairs of breasts, were thinking, _You jammy bastard_.

Once the embrace was over, though, he got the feeling that the girls had enjoyed it, some embarrassment on Cho and Fleur's parts notwithstanding. And to be fair, Luna's gesture, while embarrassing, was still nice. The only thing he think he needed to teach the strange girl, if she was actually going to be his friend, was the concept of personal space...

 **CHAPTER 17 ANNOTATIONS:**

 **Okay, I said the next chapter was going to be the DMLE raiding Little Hangleton, but I realised I couldn't muster up the wherewithal to write the scene. And yes, Voldemort managed to get away. Cop-out, I know a lot of you are yelling, but frankly, I need a threat beyond the Third Task for the climax of the story.**

 **The next chapter, where Harry and Fleur will be testing the Gillyweed, will have more Harry/Fleur. And Myrtle being a gooseberry.**

 **Review-answering time!** **Sean-Malloy1** **: No. The story will end with this fic.**

 **MKTerra** **: Because I have so many other fics on my plate, along with a lack of inspiration,** ** _Henry Ashford and the Wrath of Marcus_** **(as it is tentatively called) will be some time coming. Be patient. In truth, my next new fic may be a** ** _Fate/Stay Night_** **crossover if you're interested. I did a oneshot crossover with** ** _Monty Python and the Holy Grail_** **called** ** _Coconuts?!_** **(well, titled** ** _Coconuts?_** **thanks to this website being ornery) where Zelretch leaves a copy of** ** _Monty Python and the Holy Grail_** **with Saber. It's not great, but it's all right. The fic, I mean.**

 **No numbered annotations this time.**


	19. Chapter 18: Underwater Love

**CHAPTER 18:**

 **UNDERWATER LOVE**

Luna was as good as her word, and had given Fleur and Harry two rather large bags of Gillyweed. She had also given some sound advice to the pair of them on how to deal with the transformation, having undergone it herself. They had to wait until they couldn't breathe air any longer, then they had to immerse themselves. The transformation also would ensure they had protection against the cold, negating the need for Warming Charms. They intended to practise some spells under the water, though.

Harry and Fleur, on prior arrangement, had changed into swimwear under their robes after breakfast, and then made their way to the Prefect Bathroom. Cedric had warned the other Prefects to stay clear, though he only told them Fleur was testing out Gillyweed. Harry was grateful: he was sure the rumour mill of Hogwarts, already working overtime with the revelation of him being Fleur's boyfriend, would go into a frenzy. And if the Slytherin Prefects caught wind, well, he was sure that the rumour mill would claim that he was having steamy sex romp with Fleur in the Prefect Bathroom. And while he wouldn't mind that in the future, the fact was that he was a bit too young for that. Fleur had agreed: they would stick to making out. Besides, if Moaning Myrtle made a habit of hanging around the Prefect Bathroom, she'd probably spread the rumours herself if they tried anything beyond that.

Hermione, who was actually curious about the transformation, had come along to watch, at least until they finished transforming. Then, she would leave them to their privacy.

As they entered the opulent Prefect Bathroom, Harry and Hermione stared in awe. A massive chandelier, a bath the size of a large swimming pool (complete with diving board!), a ridiculous amount of taps lining said bath, a painting with a beautiful mermaid on it, peering at them curiously. "Wow," Harry said. "Remind me to thank Cho and Cedric again."

Hermione nodded. "Being a Prefect has its privileges. I only read a couple of things about this in _Hogwarts: A History_. To see it is another matter."

Fleur walked over to one of the many taps, the blue one Cho had indicated, and turned it on. Water gushed out in a torrent. "Normal cold water," she murmured. "We have something not dissimilar at Beauxbatons, the different taps must include various bubble baths and hot water. We will not experiment with those. We should be able to breathe lake water with Gillyweed, but I would not like to try to see if we can breathe soapy water." The part-Veela then began stripping off her robes, revealing a silvery one-piece swimsuit.

Harry had to fight hard not to stare. While he had seen Fleur wearing relatively normal clothes, even Muggle clothes that weren't as concealing as wizarding robes, this was the first time he had seen her in any state of deshabille, had he known that term. And given that he was currently going through puberty, not to mention Fleur's restrained allure leaking through, well, it took a monumental effort to look away while he took his own robes off to reveal his own swimming costume (board shorts and a rash vest in Gryffindor colours), Fleur and Hermione chuckling at him as he blushed furiously.

"Harry, they sometimes wear a lot less on a few beaches in France," Hermione said. "I was shocked to see some women going topless. Fleur's a picture of elegance and restraint by comparison."

Fleur snorted contemptuously as she fished her wand from her robes, Harry doing the same thing. "That would be far from difficult, Hermione. I could attract more men with grace and elegance, never mind my allure, than by baring my breasts to the world, anyway. But I do not need or wish to. I have Harry, and that is enough."

"I'm glad," Hermione said. She had brought the bags of Gillyweed, and set them down on the floor, along with a special slate that could be written on with a wand underwater, without any possible danger of chalk dust or pen ink being inhaled by them while they were underwater. The bath was now full, so Harry and Fleur took out Gillyweed. "I suggest half again as much Gillyweed as the standard dose to test for this, give you an hour and a half underwater," Hermione said. "You might need more than an hour in the Black Lake, and I don't want you to drown. I'm sure they'll have measures in place for that, just in case, but even so…"

Harry and Fleur nodded, and under Hermione's watchful eye, picked out the amount of Gillyweed she had indicated, Harry taking up the special slate as well. "It only takes a few seconds to take effect," Hermione said. "You have to chew it and swallow it first."

The two Champions nodded again, before they put the Gillyweed into their mouths, and began chewing. Unpleasant and rubbery, it tasted. "It is like eating raw octopus," Fleur murmured with a grimace after she swallowed her own dose. Harry agreed, not that he had ever eaten octopus. Or ever wanted to, for that matter.

Hermione led them to the edge of the bath. And then, it happened. Harry felt like a pillow was forced over his mouth and nose. He then felt pain on either side of his neck. The gills forming, he realised. He could see Fleur, her eyes bulging slightly as she struggled to draw breath, two gills appearing on either side of her neck too. Her hands were growing webs between the fingers. Then, looking at him, she nodded, before she dived into the bath, and he followed shortly thereafter.

The first breath of water was a revelation. His head had begun to spin when the transformation first occurred, but now, he felt normal. Even better than normal. Fleur was breathing in the water, rather hurriedly given her desire for oxygen, the rapid breathing doing interesting things to her breasts underwater. He had to fight hard not to stare, again. Merlin, she looked so damned beautiful and sexy, even with the webbed hands and flipper-like feet of the Gillyweed transformation. Her blonde hair drifted around her face like a halo of golden seaweed. He fervently hoped that he wouldn't become aroused: it'd be very conspicuous in the swimming costume. And that would make the situation far more awkward than it needed to be.

Above them, Hermione slapped the water's surface to get their attention. " _You're both okay down there?_ " she asked, her voice muffled by the water.

Harry tried to say yes, but all he got was bubbles coming out. Instead, he nodded and gave a thumbs-up, a gesture mirrored by Fleur.

" _Okay, I'll head out now. Have fun, and be careful. Keep an eye on the time, both of you. See you later_." And with that, Hermione left.

" _Are you okay?_ " Harry tried to ask underwater, but all he got were bubbles. Fleur giggled silently.

He wrote the same thing on the slate, and showed it to her. Fleur nodded. She then took the slate and wrote on it slowly but carefully. She then showed her own message to Harry. _Somewhat strange. But I like it. And I do not feel that it has been affected by my Veela ancestry_.

He nodded, before erasing her message with his wand, and writing a new message. _That's good. Let's keep our eyes on the time_ , he wrote, tapping his watch for good measure.

She then took the slate off him, and wrote, _We had better not waste any time. We had best test how well we can use spells underwater_.

 _I'll go first_ , Harry wrote. _I'll use Lumos_. And he did, and the tip of his wand glowed with the usual appearance of the spell. Fleur did the same thing.

They then tried a Stunner. They had to repair the resulting chips in the side of the pool (well, Fleur did, as she knew the Repairing Charm), but they knew now they could use their spells underwater. Using _Relashio_ was also practised: they knew now, thanks to Luna, about the Grindylows, and the spell would force the ornery aquatic creatures to let go of them should they attack. And on Hermione's suggestion, the two practised the Point Me spell, in case it would help them get to their goal faster.

Of course, there were issues to this. The spells didn't seem affected by their inability to speak properly underwater, but the water resistance, even with their Gillyweed transformations, hampered their ability for the wand movement. It was just something they had to think about when the time came for the Second Task proper…

* * *

As they continued practising spells and swimming, Fleur reflected that it wasn't so bad with Gillyweed. If anything, she felt very at home in the water. She reflected that in myth, Veela were said to have some sort of affinity with water, and yet, Veela as she knew them were creatures of air and fire. Maybe long ago, one of the ancestors of Veela was some sort of aquatic creature. Because with the Gillyweed, she felt more at ease underwater than she ever had, even when using the Bubble-Head Charm.

Harry had admitted he wasn't much of a swimmer to her before they did this. She patiently tutored him, and intended to have him do some basic swimming lessons once the Gillyweed wore off. In fact, once he left Hogwarts, or else was on holidays, she intended to teach him how to swim properly, without Gillyweed.

She felt protective towards him. It was only natural: he was not only three years her junior, but he also had Voldemort's ire. That, and the ire of many Purebloods. But by the same token, he didn't need as much protecting as you thought. Before he turned thirteen, he had managed to kill a Basilisk and (barely) lived to tell the tale. Few adult wizards could claim to have done that. True, from what he said, he won partly out of luck, and partly due to the assistance of Dumbledore's Phoenix, Fawkes. But to even prevail in the first place meant he had a knack for protecting himself. He certainly showed his resourcefulness in the First Task.

It was a desire to help protect him that was part of Fleur's love for him, she realised. He was an attractive boy, if somewhat scrawny, he was intelligent enough, but he also needed protecting. Of course, more than that, he had a good heart, despite his upbringing with those appalling Dursleys. If they were lucky and, like her father alluded to, Voldemort was finally dealt with for once and for all, then Harry could move away from those animals. Apparently there was some special ward or other, she didn't know the details, and her father said it was best she didn't know those details for her own safety.

And what then? Fleur had thought about Harry becoming a Cursebreaker, and had discreetly enquired both at Gringotts and through the various teachers whether he could take supplementary classes to better his chances, given that he wasn't doing Arithmancy and Ancient Runes. As it turned out, the NEWT in Ancient Runes wasn't wholly compulsory, just highly desirable, and Gringotts would happily sponsor Harry Potter into getting supplementary courses. To hire the Boy Who Lived would be an excellent publicity coup for the Goblins, after all, and they sometimes did it for those who had promise in other areas required for Cursebreakers.

Harry himself had been amenable to the idea when Fleur broached it. He hadn't quite been thinking about a career outside of Hogwarts, though the Department of Mysteries seemed interesting, given what he had heard of it.

As she guided him through swimming laps gently through the water, swimming closely alongside him, she noticed that he was trying very hard to conceal his arousal. She found it, in this circumstance at least, somewhat amusing. Anyway, it wasn't like he was in that near-catatonic state some people were around her, even when she had full control over her allure. And it wasn't that noticeable.

Even so, an impish impulse came over her about three-quarters of an hour into their training. As Harry rested after swimming some laps, Fleur kissed him. He stiffened (well, the rest of his body did), before relaxing, as they enjoyed the underwater kiss.

As they broke it off, they heard a disappointed voice say, "Aww, I wanted to see more." Fleur sighed, and looked at the grey figure of a rather dumpy, pimpled girl with thick glasses and a glum expression. This must be Moaning Myrtle.

Fleur picked up the slate, and wrote on it, a single word. _Voyeur_.

Myrtle seemed offended. "Well, excuse me! I can't do anything but watch, now that I'm dead!" She glared over at Harry. "And you, Harry, you haven't been to visit me lately."

Harry facepalmed at this, understandably. He had alluded to meeting Myrtle a few times before during the whole Chamber of Secrets fiasco. But even as Fleur wondered about that, Myrtle spoke again. "Well, I think it's all sweet. Luna told me about you two. Oh, it's so sweet. Oh, this is so much better than hounding Olive Hornby at her brother's wedding."

* * *

They had to deal with Myrtle gawping at them for a while, before Harry came up with an idea. He pointed out with the slate that they probably couldn't reverse the transformation voluntarily, so if they used more Gillyweed than usual to give over an hour, that meant they may need a means of supplying water for them to breathe once they emerged from the lake.

Between the pair of them, they came up with a solution: a combination of the Bubble-Head Charm, and the _Aguamenti_ spell. They could fill up the bubble with water rather than oxygen. Normal people would drown, but for the Gillyweed transformation, it would give them oxygen. The Bubble-Head Charm also continually oxygenated the air within the bubble, so it would oxygenate the water within the bubble.

With the one-hour mark reached, Harry volunteered to go first, after being tutored in the two spells by the more-experienced Fleur. Fleur cast the two spells in rapid succession. The bubble around Harry's head soon filled with water, and he soon could breathe. Harry then did the same thing to Fleur, and they were both relieved to find that it worked. The two clambered out of the bath (to Myrtle's disappointment and the amusement of the mermaid painting), and found that the spells were holding up well: the oxygen content of the water in the bubble, if anything, was higher than that in the bath. They spent the time passing the slate back and forth, with Fleur turning it into an impromptu lesson on Arithmancy. Harry picked up the basics fairly quickly, being pretty good at mathematics.

About twenty minutes later, Fleur realised that the transformation was reversing. It was getting harder and harder to draw breath, and there was a pain in their necks as the gills sealed up. Swiftly, she dispelled the Bubble-Head Charms on them both, and they coughed up water. Fleur looked at her watch, before saying, "One hour and twenty minutes. Twenty minutes should be a good safety margin, _mon chéri_."

Harry nodded. "But wasn't that interesting?"

" _Oui_. Though the transition is unpleasant, once you are in that state…" She looked at her watch again. "I think we should continue your swimming lessons above water for the next half an hour. Just remember that you cannot breathe the water this time, _mon chéri_."

* * *

Harry managed to pick up the basics pretty well. Okay, he was swimming in an oversized bathtub rather than in the ocean, but Fleur's guidance had him able to swim quite easily, and what's more, he could tread water well enough. She promised more lessons later on, especially if they went on holidays together.

After they finished, towelled themselves down, and got dressed, Harry reflected that he was truly fortunate. Sometimes, he wondered whether this was just some half-baked fantasy story. Here he was, a wizard learning magic in an ancient castle, with an absolutely gorgeous girlfriend who had the blood of a magical being in her. If he told the average person, a Muggle, he'd be laughed at, thought insane.

But this was reality. And if it was insanity, then it was of a kind he didn't mind at all. Which was why, as the pair of them left the Prefect Bathroom, they did so hand-in-hand, without hesitation or apprehension. They were joined, bonded, and that was what mattered…

 **CHAPTER 18 ANNOTATIONS:**

 **For this chapter, I wanted to do more Harry/Fleur, so sorry if the sweetness made you retch. And I also wanted to address some of the problems with Gillyweed in an intelligent manner. That whole thing about a Bubble-Head Charm being filled with water was something I read in another fanfic (either one by robst, or Vance McGill's** ** _The Vanishing Cabinet of Time_** **), but used as a covert murder combination of spells rather than to assist a person under the influence of Gillyweed.**

 **The next chapter will be the Second Task, mostly from Fleur's POV. And she'll be more successful in it than she was in canon, now that she's better prepared for what lies beneath the surface…**

 **No numbered annotations this time.**


	20. Chapter 19: The Travails of the Lake

**CHAPTER 19:**

 **THE TRAVAILS OF THE LAKE**

They had taken Gabrielle! Fleur was beside herself with worry, and only the calm expression on her father's face as he watched from the audience prevented her from descending into a full-on panic. He had to have known, and he must know that the hostages would be safe, regardless of her success here.

She still wanted to set Bagman's groin on fire, though, for putting such an ominous message into the Golden Egg.

A Warming Charm helped keep the chill of the February morning away as Fleur stood on the shoreline, wearing her swimsuit. Harry stood nearby. In their hands, they had the doses of Gillyweed. When he arrived, Harry told her that Dobby had told him about Ron being taken, along with Hermione. They since learned that Hermione was to be Viktor Krum's hostage, while Harry had to rescue another good friend in Ron. Neither Viktor nor Cedric looked overly nervous, at least as far as rescuing the hostages were concerned. Cedric had admitted that Cho was down there as his hostage.

"I hope that what they put in that damn egg was bull, or I'm going to be going after Bagman," Harry muttered.

"As you English would say, ' _get in line_ '," Fleur declared quietly. She closed her eyes, and concentrated on her breathing, trying with only a little success to calm herself down. Swimming in a dark lake was different to doing so in a bath, even if it was more like a pool. The bath, that is. But they had trained as much as they could. She only hoped it was enough.

Finally, the signal was given. Both Harry and Fleur immediately threw the Gillyweed into their mouths and chewed on it before swallowing it, while Cedric cast a Bubble-Head Charm on himself. Viktor also cast a spell on himself, and as he dove into the water, Fleur realised, with a slight pang of envy, that he'd managed to partially Transfigure himself into a shark. Such human Transfiguration was dangerous and difficult. Thankfully, he had managed it.

Harry and Fleur dived in simultaneously, holding their breaths until their transformation was complete. Fleur then took her first breath of lake water, and despite the darkness, it felt as good as the bath water had been. She saw that Harry had transformed as well, and they gave each other a thumbs up, before swimming into the depths, using a Point Me spell as they did so.

Officially, Harry and Fleur were going to do this separately. However, unofficially, Harry and Fleur privately agreed that if either of them got into trouble, they'd help out. Same if Cedric or Krum were in trouble nearby.

As she swam into the depths, Fleur felt a certain amount of…enrapture? Serenity? Enjoyment? There was something about being able to move in three dimensions, rather like flying on a broomstick. Fleur hadn't flown on one that often, to be sure.

Ah, that was the word she was looking for. _Liberating_. It was liberating to be able to swim so freely. How could she forget? The national motto of France, after all, was _Liberté, égalité, fraternité_. Liberty, equality, brotherhood.

Not that it was always put into practise, she reflected as she dived deeper. In France, in Britain, around the world, magical or mundane, such concepts were held to be the epitome of human rights, and yet, were still freely disregarded. People were rarely born equal, no matter what the ideal, and inequality and oppression were facts of life to be fought against. Her father taught her that. To win the ideals of human rights was a perpetual struggle. The blood purity ideology prevalent throughout the magical world was a symptom of that. They sneered at people like her and her sister, for having creature blood flowing through their veins…even as they secretly desired them, as sex objects at best. And at worst…

At the thought of her sister, Fleur redoubled her efforts. She needed to retrieve Gabrielle, and soon…

* * *

Hercule sat next to Dumbledore, watching the enchanted map in front of them. It had been a suggestion of Sirius Black's, that they be able to see the progress of the Champions on the map. After all, the Black Lake was just that: black, murky, and impossible to see through. Something that Bagman, in one of his grand gestures that was about as well thought out as a bowel movement, had overlooked. There was a larger one in front of most of the audience, but this one was more personal.

"I am still not overly fond of this little game, Dumbledore," Hercule muttered. "While you have assured me that neither of my children are in any real danger, I cannot say that I am utterly convinced."

"I understand, Hercule. The Merpeople have been requested to intervene should anything truly dangerous happen to the Champions," Dumbledore said. "They may not look beautiful, and they can be aggressive to interlopers, but the Merpeople are far from malicious. I was asked to negotiate with them for use of the Black Lake. Sadly, I had to be the one, along with Madam Baum, to negotiate for the safety procedures. Bagman, for all his former brilliance at Quidditch and his sense of spectacle, has even less notion of what is safe than poor Hagrid."

Hercule found that assessment somewhat hard to believe. As much of an imbecile Bagman was, what Hercule knew about Rubeus Hagrid pointed to the half-Giant having a very skewed sense of what was actually dangerous. This was partly due to his half-Giant nature: by default, he was resistant to most spells, and larger and stronger than most things that could threaten him. He was also, unlike Madame Maxime, only partly educated. Hagrid was actually quite well-read when it came to dangerous creatures and some spells, but he had a very child-like demeanour with virtually no sense of caution.

"They should be all right," Baum said quietly, sitting nearby. "All sports, even Muggle ones, have elements of risk. And all Champions seem to have done well in their choice of surmounting the obstacle of the Black Lake. Your daughter and Potter have chosen Gillyweed, Diggory has chosen a Bubble-Head Charm, and Krum used a surprisingly good Transfiguration of himself. Hmm, it seems like Potter may reach the village first. I have to say, despite the irregular nature of his being chosen, he's quite competent for a boy who hasn't even achieved his OWLs."

"He is driven to prove himself," Dumbledore said. "He grew up ignorant of his fame, for better or for worse, but once he learned of it, he has had to fulfil some great expectations. I am sure Harry wants to be known for himself, rather than the Boy Who Lived."

"I sympathise," Baum said. "Wizards and witches are a credulous lot, though Muggles aren't better. Too many Muggles believe that man didn't land on the Moon, that it was faked by NASA. So it's hardly surprising that this Boy Who Lived nonsense has sprung up. They expected him to be the Second Coming."

"It's a miracle he wasn't crushed under those expectations," Dumbledore said. "Or turned into the attention-seeking brat that Severus claims him to be. One can only hope that one day, Harry can live a long and relatively normal life."

"As I believe they say in English, fat chance of that happening," Hercule said. "Look at what happened when Skeeter published those scurrilous accusations. A long life may be on the cards, but normal?"

"True enough," Baum said.

* * *

There had been a hairy moment when the Grindylows attacked, but thanks to their practise in the bath, Fleur had been able to fight them off. Still, the attack had cost Fleur precious time, and only now was she coming up to the Merpeople village, their eerie song singing almost mockingly.

 _An hour long you'll have to look,_

 _And to recover what we took._

 _Your time's half-gone, so tarry not_

 _Lest what you seek stays here to rot_ …

Fleur scowled. She hoped the song was Bagman's doing rather than the Merpeople deliberately trying to goad her. Otherwise, she was tempted to start hurling curses.

A tap on her back, and she spun in the water to find Harry floating just above her. He had a few scratches from Grindylows on his legs, but was otherwise unharmed. He indicated that they go forward, and she nodded.

The Merpeople village was a cluster of stone dwellings, covered in algae and weed. These Merpeople bore little resemblance to their oceanic cousins, who were considerably more attractive. These ones had greyish skin, long, dark green hair that was like a wild tangle of seaweed, wearing crude necklaces of pebbles. They peered and leered at Harry and Fleur curiously, bemused and amused at their transformation using Gillyweed.

They soon came to a village square of sorts, with a crude statue of a Merman carved from a boulder in the middle. In the square was a choir of Merpeople singing, while more guarded the tail of the statue. And tied to the tail of the statue were a quartet of people. Fleur recognised all four of them: Gabrielle, Ronald Weasley, Cho Chang, and Hermione Granger. They seemed to be in some sort of enchanted sleep, with no breathing apparatus.

Fleur and Harry headed to their respective hostages, and began tugging at the seaweed binding them to the statue. Thick, ropey, slimy, and tough. Fleur readied her wand with a silent scowl, and sent a Cutting Curse at the seaweed binding Gabrielle, breaking her sister free. Harry did the same to Ron. They looked at each other, and nodded. They intended to wait until Cedric and Krum got here.

A few minutes later, Cedric arrived, the distinctive bubble of a Bubble-Head Charm around his head. " _Got lost!_ " he mouthed, looking panic-stricken. " _Krum's not far behind!_ "

As soon as Harry and Fleur saw Viktor's now shark-like form emerge from the gloom, they began their ascent, Cedric not far behind. Fleur hoped that Krum freed Hermione without trouble. The bushy-haired girl may have been bossy, but she was at least intelligent than most witches her age. Sadly, that also applied to many within Ravenclaw. The House of those who treasured wit and learning, her derriere. That Luna girl had had to deal with bullying from her classmates, hiding her things.

 _Not that Beauxbatons was any better at times_ , Fleur reflected, casting the Bubble-Head Charm as she neared the surface, and then filling it with water. _Look at how they treated me at times for being part-Veela_. Of course, Luna's crime, if you could call it that, was even less objectionable: she was an eccentric who spoke of creatures which may or may not exist.

Fleur and Harry soon surfaced, and then began dragging their charges back to shore. Gabrielle and Ron woke as soon as they surfaced, and Gabrielle opened her eyes. " _Fleur? Fleur?_ " she asked in a panic, before she saw Fleur's head covered by the water-filled Bubble-Head. " _Thank you, Fleur!_ " Gabrielle babbled in French, over and over again. Fleur couldn't talk back, but smiled reassuringly back at her sister.

Cedric soon surfaced, as did Viktor, both with their hostages. Viktor changed himself back from a shark hybrid, and they began dragging their own hostages back to shore. As they did so, a score of Merpeople surfaced, and began escorting them back to shore, like an honour guard of sorts. Fleur wished they wouldn't sing, though: their song was a screechy mess above water, and as eerie as it was underwater, it at least sounded good.

They soon reached the bank of the lake, and they were immediately pounced upon by the Headmasters of the schools, along with Madam Pomfrey, who tended to the others. She said she would have to wait for the Gillyweed transformation to revert first before giving them any potions, though she gave the injuries they sustained from the Grindylows a cursory check.

Hermione and Ron hugged Harry, while Fleur hugged Gabrielle close. Fleur, however, realised something. Viktor noticed a water beetle in Hermione's hair, but when Fleur looked closely, she realised it was the same beetle as she had seen the night of the Yule Ball. And she remembered Hermione's supposition that Skeeter was an unregistered Animagus.

Deftly, she plucked the beetle from Hermione's hair, and held it cupped in her hand. She felt it buzz around, squirming urgently. She smirked viciously. If this really was Skeeter, she was going to have some fun. Meanwhile, Dumbledore was speaking with one of the Merpeople.

The transformation finally reversed itself, and before they could drown, Harry and Fleur popped the Bubble-Head Charm, allowing themselves to breathe (Fleur had some difficulty, having to keep maybe-Skeeter in one hand, and using a wand in the other) air once more.

The points were soon awarded. Fleur and Harry were the first to retrieve their hostages successfully, though they had passed the hour time limit when they surfaced. Fleur got forty-five, while thanks to Bagman, Harry got forty-six. Cedric got forty-five, and Viktor got forty.

Harry had gotten 40 in the previous Task, so he had 86. Fleur had the same score in that Task, so she was at 85. Cedric had gotten 42 in the previous Task, making his total 87. Krum got 44 points in the previous Task, so his total was now 84. Thus, Fleur was in third.

Bagman made the announcement that the Third Task would take place on June 24. The Champions would be notified about what the Task entailed a month prior. Fleur sighed. At least she wasn't trailing too far behind. If it weren't for that fool Bagman, she would be tied with Harry. And she still wanted to set Bagman's groin on fire. Fatuous idiot.

Still, she had gotten out of that little saga with her sister alive and well. What was more, she may have caught a very nosy Animagus indeed. All in all, a good day's work…

 **CHAPTER 19 ANNOTATIONS:**

 **Sorry about the wait, as usual. Finding the motivation to write is getting increasingly difficult lately. Still, I hope you enjoyed it. I know Harry got one less point in the book, but unlike the book, he didn't stay behind to make sure all of the hostages were saved (though this was because he was sure, this time, that they wouldn't come to harm).**

 **The next chapter will be focused mostly on the Delacours and Harry dealing with Skeeter. I hope. When it comes, anyway.**

 **Review-answering time!** **Arnold DeVilenna** **: Thanks. One thing that pisses me off about many pairings is the instant nature of the relationship. I've said it before, I detest the device of love at first sight, and those plot devices like soul bindings and the like irritate me. I might still use them one day, but I prefer to write my romance somewhat more gradually than seems to be the norm.**

 **GodOfPixies** **: I didn't remember that, and in any case, I would have thought Hermione to be the sort to read ahead with her books. Anyway, it might be that Harry missed that class during one of his misadventures.**

 **Spaceduck the Majestic** **: Hercule was deliberately modelled on Poirot, as I pointed out in** ** _In Spite of Obstinate Men_** **. Also, a gooseberry is UK slang, equivalent to 'third wheel'.**

 **No numbered annotations this time.**


	21. Chapter 20: Offers and Offense

**CHAPTER 20:**

 **OFFERS AND OFFENSE**

It was a disused classroom that Hercule, Dumbledore, and Sirius confronted Rita Skeeter in the night after the Second Task. The gathering had the air of a furtive criminal enterprise, of a group of criminals about to interrogate some helpless and hapless victim. The irony of this wasn't lost on Hercule. This little saga was in a shadowy area of the law.

Taking the beetle from the jar Fleur had put the muckraking reporter in, Hercule then cast the Animagus Reversal charm. Soon, Rita was getting shakily to her feet, but she soon recovered something of her composure. After all, she wasn't exactly tied to a chair. "Gentlemen," she said, a little acidly. "To what do I owe this…dubious pleasure?"

Sirius glared at her. "I think you know very well."

Hercule nodded in agreement, his eyes fixing on Rita's own like the glare of a Gorgon. "It is very hard to anger me. What you did with your article after the Yule Ball did so. While much of that article was surprisingly accurate given the track record of the _Prophet_ , you dared to insinuate that Harry had been ensnared by my daughter using her allure. That in itself was enraging enough, but your article caused a wave of what you English call hate mail, including booby-trapped letters that, had my daughters not been trained to check dubious parcels, she may have been harmed by! Some were cursed, and one would have sprayed her with Bubotuber pus had she not been vigilant!"

"Then it's just as well that she was," Rita said, surprisingly unrepentantly. On their glares, she snapped, "What? I've gotten hate mail before, and doubtless I will again. It's very much a learning experience, having a parcel with a sabotaged potion go off in your face. You should know, Monsieur Delacour, given your rather fractious time in the French DMLE, and as a private detective. You could have taught her how to deal with it, or at least to be prepared for it."

"True, but my family and I do not go out of our way to attract hate mail to us, _n'est-ce pas?_ But you, Madame Skeeter, you delight in causing my family and Harry to attract the unnecessary ire and attention of Magical Britain. Not only that, but you went out of your way to hurt the reputation of both Madame Maxime and Rubeus Hagrid, who are both loved by a majority of those they know, despite their heritage."

"The public have a right to know," Rita insisted.

"But do you have the right to inflict unnecessary pain on those whom you report on? Especially by twisting the truth, when you actually use it at all?" Dumbledore asked. "Madame Maxime is no stranger to dealing with the press given her position as the Headmistress of Beauxbatons, but Rubeus, sadly, is a gentle and simple soul. And Harry, for all his fame, is a boy who does not want it. Remember how he got his fame, Miss Skeeter: by his parents dying saving him from Voldemort." Hercule noticed that Dumbledore seemed to take a small perverse delight in the flinch Rita made when she heard Voldemort's name. It was a delight the man shared. "He shrinks away from the spotlight, but you have shone it right in his eyes, all for the sake of selling newspapers and disseminating lascivious gossip. I am used to being in the spotlight, Miss Skeeter, even if I do not like it, but Harry does not, and neither does Fleur."

Sirius had his turn to speak. "You also remember the influence my family has, even if its numbers have been reduced. The _Prophet_ never really went after the Blacks, barring myself. But then, they knew better. And given that you're an unregistered Animagus, and worse, one who has used that ability to gather information to twist to your own selfish ends…you may think you can piss on us and claim it's raining, but it's still just piss."

"Sirius, a little more decorum, please," Dumbledore chided gently.

"You're not my mother," Sirius retorted with a roll of the eyes. "I get enough of her rubbish when her portrait gets woken up." He looked at Rita. "Maybe you should interview her. _Portrait of a Blood Purist: My Interview with Walburga Black_. Catchy-sounding, isn't it?"

"Interviewing portraits doesn't tend to sell papers," Rita said.

"Maybe, but a spectacular scandal does," Hercule said. "Especially if a star reporter has been exposed as an unregistered Animagus who has been using her talents to spy on people for her own profit, and to the detriment of her victims." He smiled a tight little smile. "That is, I believe, what you British call the stick. But there is a carrot too."

Rita's eyes glittered with interest and avarice. She was thinking now that, not only was there a way to get out of the situation relatively intact, but she might benefit from this too. "I'm listening. Intently."

"Hercule and I have been discussing a story that, when the time is right, you may release," Dumbledore said. "A story that needs no embellishment or any of the other trappings of yellow journalism. It's a story that will shake Magical Britain to its core, but it will also break a culture of fear around a certain personage. I myself have only recently learned the full story. But when the time is right, Magical Britain may learn of it too."

They had her hooked. They knew that. That glitter of interest and avarice had only intensified. "You mean…?"

"Yes, Madame Skeeter," Hercule said. "The true life of Lord Voldemort."

* * *

"What do you think they're doing with her?" Hermione asked as they ate dinner in the Great Hall. Fleur had come over, along with Gabrielle, but had given Ron a pointed look when he demonstrated his usual table manners, or lack thereof.

"Hope Sirius is teaching that bitch a lesson," Ron muttered. While he hadn't been a direct target of Rita's poison pen, his father had been on a few occasions, and having Harry, Fleur and Hagrid go through it had roused the redhead's ire.

"Language, Ron," Hermione chided.

"I believe he used English," Fleur said with a wry smirk. Her face fell at a reminder of what happened earlier today. "That being said, I am still sorely tempted to set Bagman on fire. That message was too ominous for my liking."

"They wouldn't have let anyone get killed," Hermione said.

"Dumbledore may not have," Fleur said. "Neither would Madame Maxime. But the others…Hermione, they sent us against dragons for the First Task. Even for adult wizards, that is appallingly dangerous. All in the name of Bagman's desire for spectacle."

"Like the gladiators," Harry muttered.

"Yes, I thought the same thing just before the First Task, _mon chéri_ ," Fleur said. "Had nobody been warned in advance, then there may have been deaths, or grievous injury. And yet, look at him."

The Golden Trio and the Delacour girls looked over at the Head Table, where Bagman sat, still having that damned fatuous smile on his face. Gabrielle pouted and made a few remarks in French. Presumably they were less than salutary ones, as Hermione and Fleur looked at her, and Fleur said a half-hearted rebuke.

"It makes you wonder what fun times are in store for the Third Task," Harry said quietly. "Mortal peril, then hostages in a dangerous situation…what next? Are we going to have to fight off swarms of Dementors?"

Hermione winced. "Don't joke about stuff like that. Something tells me that, if Hercule didn't exonerate Sirius, we might have had to do just that."

"I would hope that not even Bagman would be foolish to use Dementors in this Third Task," Fleur said, glancing at Bagman, "but that may be a vain hope."

"Maybe we could set the Twins on him," Ron said. "Some of the stuff they've been developing for their business is pretty amazing."

"What sort of business is that?" Fleur asked. "Is that the one Monsieur Black was going to invest in that they discussed at the Quidditch Word Cup? This…prank supplies business?"

Ron nodded. "He's only asked them to put in a better effort with their studies. I heard this from the Twins, but apparently Sirius knew that they were holding back in their grades. He told them that his investment is conditional on them doing well for their NEWTS. He says it's partly to make sure Mum doesn't send a blizzard of Howlers. That, and Lupin told them the same." He shrugged. "They don't listen to anyone, usually, but I guess that, given that the Marauders are their idols, they'd listen to them."

Hermione rolled her eyes. "Sirius Black is NOT a good role model. Professor Lupin is, I guess, but still, encouraging them…"

"If they make money doing what they love and making other people happy, then I say good luck. As long as they don't actually hurt anyone else," Harry said. He thought about Sirius and Remus discussing some of their exploits as the Marauders, and while he thought that some people deserved it, some of the stuff Remus had admitted seemed rather on the nose. Like Sirius and Harry's father setting Snape up to get mauled by a transformed Remus. Okay, Snape was being a nosy prick, but he could have been killed, and that might have ended in Remus' execution. Fred and George, at least, ensured that their pranks didn't go too far. But Remus had admitted that there were times when Sirius and James Potter had been like bullies.

It wasn't an easy thing to hear, but it was better hearing it from Remus than from Snape. At least Remus knew how to break it to Harry gently, whereas Snape utterly despised Harry's father, and despised Harry in his turn, the only reason why Snape deigned to give any sort of assistance to Harry being the debt owed when Snape was saved by James Potter.

Harry didn't like Snape, and he wasn't sure how he was supposed to take the fact that Dumbledore trusted him. But Harry was willing to trust the fact that Snape, while he hated him, didn't hate him enough to kill him. And he had a lot more people he could trust to support him in getting through this latest mess. He just hoped it would be enough…

* * *

"Can we trust her?" Sirius asked as he walked down the corridor with Dumbledore and Hercule.

"I know her type," Hercule said. "While having leverage about her Animagus form is a good deterrent, giving her access to Voldemort's life story is an extra incentive. And incentives work better on such people than deterrents. Once we have dealt with Voldemort, publishing his life story will erode the support for his vile doctrine."

"It may not eradicate it entirely, Hercule," Dumbledore said sagely. "Blood Purity is still firmly entrenched in the psyche of Magical Britain, and the thing that worries me is that this may only cause a backlash against Halfbloods. They may even claim that Voldemort's insanity was due to his Muggle heritage, or due to his mother being a near-Squib, or even both."

"It's a risk worth taking," Sirius said. "We can't stop all Dark Lords from rising, but we can at least ruin their faith in Voldemort. Though the really fanatical ones will just think it lies. Rita Skeeter is known for publishing bollocks."

" _Oui_ , but many of those who read the _Daily Prophet_ believe it anyway, in spite of it being a most execrable publication," Hercule said. "If they were to publish tomorrow that Harry is a delusional child seeking fame, and you, Dumbledore, as a senile megalomaniac, and you, Sirius, as a syphilitic lothario, they would believe it."

"They have called me senile before, Hercule," Dumbledore said. "I am used to it. It's a dangerous gamble…but I think it is more than worth the risk. If the Purebloods following Voldemort see his hypocrisy, then they may turn on him and his ideology. As Sirius pointed out, not all of them will be willing to believe it. But enough hopefully will."

It was too much to hope that the Blood Purity doctrine Voldemort took to its natural, grotesque conclusion would be wiped out by their plan. But perhaps they would be able to scrub out the worst of it. These three men were trying to prepare for a future where the younger generation didn't need to deal with such things, to not to have to live in fear because of their heritage. And while maybe their plan would backfire, with any luck, it would not…

 **CHAPTER 20 ANNOTATIONS:**

 **So, it's been a while since I've updated this. I'm sorry about that, but unfortunately, my muse was distinctly uncooperative, and my motivation to write another chapter of this story was at an all-time low. And unfortunately, it might be a while before the next chapter comes along too. Please be patient. I know 'patient' is a dirty word on the internet, but even so, try to be.**

 **I have plenty of other stories for you to peruse. Indeed, I've started writing two other 'pure' Harry Potter fics, albeit of a somewhat less serious nature. Many of those who follow my works might already know them. They're both Lunar Harmony stories, based to a degree off challenges issued by DZ2, and are humorous to various degrees, with significant bashing, unlike this fic and its prequel.**

 **The first,** ** _On the Delights of Drinking Blood_** **, is a vampire Lunar Harmony story that is, frankly, my own take on a crack fic. Where else would you have Luna Lovegood as the Queen of Vampires in Britain?**

 **The second,** ** _Just a Touch of Kleptomania_** **, has a VERY OP Lunar Harmony using their powers to rob their foes blind. A couple of the elements were inspired by** ** _Faery Heroes_** **by Silently Watches, though I later learned it also echoes, slightly,** ** _Larceny, Lechery and Luna Lovegood!_** **by Rorschach's Blot. And while not a crossover, it does take a bit of inspiration from the** ** _Legacy of Kain_** **games, particularly the** ** _Soul Reaver_** **ones.**

 **Neither fic should be taken as seriously as this one, obviously. They both defile canon quite a bit. But if you don't mind that, and want OP characters doing fun shit, then give them a go.**

 **Review-answering time!** **Akren Alumni** **: …Thanks for that mental image.**

 **James018** **: The sharks with laser beams was more of a reference to** ** _Austin Powers_** **, actually. I haven't seen this fake map, but it doesn't surprise me. If that map jokes about how dangerous Australian wildlife is, it reminds me of that scene from the Discworld novel The Last Continent, where Death, in his library, asks for information on the dangerous creatures of Australia-analogue Fourecks, only to be promptly buried under books. When he asks for information on the least dangerous creatures, he gets a small piece of paper that says 'some of the sheep'. Anyway, I'm glad you like this fanfic.**

 **No numbered annotations this time.**


End file.
